The Highlights
by Kate-The-Great-And-Powerful
Summary: There were 75 years of the Hunger Games. Every chapter of this story represents one year, and tells a story from one Games. Ladies and Gentlemen, it's time to roll the Highlights.
1. The Escapee (Scooter)

**This story is made up of one scene from each of the 75 Hunger Games. **

**The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins! Thank you for writing the best book series ever!**

**This story was inspired by PK9's amazing fanfiction, 1743.**

The 1st Hunger Games

Scutarius

District 8

The strange metal plate I stand on starts to rise up through the glass tube. For a minute, I'm in complete darkness. The last thoughts I have before I enter the arena are _What kind of sick Game is this? It's almost like they've been preparing for years._ Yes, this whole nightmare runs too smoothly to have been thrown together right after the rebellion. I remember the ceremony where they picked tributes, reading the new treaty and asking for volunteers that weren't there. I remember my well-organized week in the Capitol, training to fight to the death for the city's entertainment. And suddenly I'm in the arena, blinking in the immediate brightness of the artificial sun. As soon as my eyes adjust to the light, I can see a shining golden Cornucopia in the middle of the clearing. But it's not a normal clearing. There isn't a tree in sight. Behind us tributes is a field of long grass, stretching as far as I can see in every direction, with the exception of the Cornucopia's "clearing", of course. The grass is so close I could reach out and touch it. But when the wind blows it my way, I step forward abruptly. It seems so much more real to me, now that I'm here. My visit to the luxurious Capitol is over.

I scan the clearing for supplies within reach. I consider stepping down to take a closer look before the Games begin, but I don't want the "game-makers", who I know observe our every move in the arena, to think I'm trying to get a head start. I can't afford to lose this Game.

I look to my right and see Cleo standing up on her pedestal, maybe ten feet away. She looks so confused, and completely terrified. Her expression mirrors what I'm feeling inside. Fear, dread, and an awful hopelessness. We're both going to die. We're all going to die. Maybe not today, though it's pretty likely, but we're all going to die. Except for one of us. The only thing I can do now is hope that one is me. Or Cleo. But even if I imagine myself as the victor, that awful hopelessness comes right back afterwards. It's inescapable.

It's this moment when I notice how distracted I've become. I turn my attention back to the countdown. But the arena is strangely silent. Then, I realize something. The countdown is over. The Games have begun. So why hasn't anyone moved? I look at all the tributes. Most are just standing there, looking a little uncertain. One, I think the boy from District 4, risks stepping off his pedestal, but he immediately jumps back on as if the grass under his feet had burst into flames. Cleo looks over at me, and I suddenly want to be back home, in District 8.

"I don't want to do this, Scooter," says Cleo. Her voice is barely a whisper.

Cleo's never hurt anybody! She's only twelve! Why are they doing this to her? To both of us? As if destroying our country's rebellion didn't cause us enough pain, now we have to be punished further. Of course, I'm referring to what _used_ to be the revolution, until the Capitol ended it. And one year later, here we are. In a strange outdoor arena, being forced to murder kids we've never even met. Why are they doing this to any of us? Even the tributes from District 2, the only district reluctant to rebel against the Capitol, look nervous. The girl is crying. A minute passes. Then two. No one's fighting. No one's moving. None of us want to start killing each other. That's when they start blowing up the pedestals.

The first explosion comes as a complete shock. It almost knocks me off my feet. The unlucky victim is the girl from 12. And now it doesn't matter if she had a chance of winning, because it's all over. I know what they're doing immediately. They're trying to scare us into fighting each other. The boy from 12 goes next, and there's another simultaneous gasp from the remaining tributes. The girl from 11 would be the next one to die, but her district partner whisks her off her pedestal just before it's blown to pieces. They sprint into the grass without grabbing supplies, and without looking back.

Why is everyone else still here? Why am _I_ still here? Maybe I'm just confused. I don't know quite what to do. Could I escape quickly into the grass with my district partner, like the tributes from 11? If I run to the supplies, won't it give someone else the perfect chance to kill me? Would they get off their pedestal for the chance? Maybe I'm still here because I don't want to risk it.

There's an eerie silence, as if those "game-makers" are sending us a message. _Who's next?_

The tributes from 9 and 10 all dismount their pedestals at once. They start to grab supplies. Then the tributes from the upper districts, like 1, 2, and 4, join them. The rest of us follow soon after.

With everyone else distracted by the battle just beginning to unfold at the Cornucopia, I grab Cleo's hand and start to run towards the grass. Suddenly, she is yanked away with a shriek. It's the boy from 1, who's got her by the ponytail. He holds a knife to her throat.

"No!" I shout, "Put her down!" Surprisingly, the boy almost immediately lets go of her. Cleo falls to the ground, crying.

"I… I can't…I…" he starts. From the expression on his face I can tell he's in a somewhat similar situation as Cleo and I. We all are, even the tributes murdering each other just a short distance away.

"Come on," I tell him. He nods. I help Cleo up and we all run into the grass.

FATE: Both Cleo and the boy from 1 died on day 2. Scutarius, who was often called Scooter, spent the rest of his Games alone. The finale of the 1st Hunger Games was a long and bloody battle between three tributes: Scooter, the boy from 7, and the boy from 4. Scooter was unarmed. The boy from 4 killed the boy from 7 and Scooter managed to get the fallen tribute's sword. Scooter killed the boy from 4 and became the very first victor.

**Please comment, and tell me what you think! Did you like it? Is there anything I can do to make it better? And most importantly, what should happen next? The next chapter in the story will be about an entirely different tribute, in the 2****nd**** Hunger Games. And the next will be a different tribute in the 3****rd**** Games. What should their stories be about?**


	2. The Volunteer (Penelope)

**Here's chapter 2 of the story! Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games. :)**

The 2nd Hunger Games

Penelope

District 2

The Academy for Volunteers was built almost immediately after both of our tributes last year were killed off on the first day. They were pathetic. They made District 2 the laughingstock of Panem! But we won't be for much longer, because of our Volunteer Academy. Sure, it's technically illegal to train before the Games. But the Capitol won't mind. They'll do anything for a good show. Highly trained tributes make for good TV. There have been rumors, though, that the last Hunger Games horrified some of the Capitol residents. They'll probably be canceled in a matter of years. But we don't care. As long as we have the Games, District 2 will strive for nothing less than victory!

I applied as soon as I could. I didn't have high hopes I'd be ready to volunteer by my 18th birthday, which happens to fall on reaping day, lucky me. But maybe, if I were picked, I could be ready to defend myself. I certainly wouldn't have minded if someone volunteered for me, though. But as I trained throughout the year, getting better and better at skills like archery and swordplay, I realized that I would mind. Somebody needs to teach Panem a lesson. District 2 won't go down without a fight. And so I decided that "somebody" should be me.

I'll be rich and famous once I win the Games, and I'll have brought honor and glory back to my district. It's true, I've only had one year of training, but I'm ready. And I'll be 19 next year. This is my last chance.

As I stand in the crowd, waiting for the ceremony to begin, I wonder who I'll be up against, what arena I'll fight in. There's been just one Games before this year, so I have no idea what I'll go through in the next couple of weeks.

I'm jolted back into reality by the sound of the Capitol escort tapping on the microphone. She gives an incredibly dull speech, which includes many long, boring quotes from the Treaty of Treason. Maybe she's reading the whole thing. I don't know, since I'm not exactly hanging onto her every word. I'm too distracted by her silly Capitol accent.

Finally, it's time to pick the tributes. This ceremony has gone on for far too long. Just as her hand is reaching into the big glass bowl to pick the girl tribute's name, I start walking towards the stage.

"My name is Penelope March!" I shout, "And I volunteer as tribute!"

FATE: Penelope was the first volunteer, but she wasn't the only one. The male tribute from her district also went into the Games willingly. They weren't allies. He died on day 5. Penelope, the only remaining volunteer, of course won her battle with the boy from 1. She was crowned victor. She set plenty of records, the kind that can never be broken: first volunteer, first District 2 victor, first female victor, first volunteer victor, just to name a few. She was also the first tribute to bring honor to District 2, and she was never forgotten.

**The next chapter, which takes place during the 3****rd**** Hunger Games, will be the story of Sparta, the girl from 5. I have a few questions for anyone who's reading: Should she become the victor? What is her arena like? Does she have allies? Please review!**


	3. The Rebel (Sparta)

The 3rd Hunger Games

Sparta

District 5

I cut back a few vines with my sword so I can see where I'm going. No, I'm definitely not in District 5 any longer. I had always wanted to travel far from that dreary place, but now it's the only place in the world I want to be.

"Meredith!" I call, looking for my little ally, "Meredith! Come out here! I brought back some food!" We had been on our own for three days in the arena before we ran into each other. She's only thirteen, three years younger than me. She's my ally because she's great at finding edible plants in this jungle, something I can't do to save my life. That's a funny choice of words, seeing as I'm in the Hunger Games. Anyway, Meredith finds the roots and berries, and I hunt. We're usually separated for the entire day, until we meet up at "dinnertime", of course. But it's "dinnertime" now, and I don't see any sign of her.

"Meredith!" I call louder, not caring if anyone hears me. A silver parachute sails down from the sky. Another gift? This is the fifth one today! Ever since the Gamemakers added the "sponsor" feature to the Games, I've been getting so many. I guess I should be happy, but the people of the Capitol send me the silliest things. Things that really won't help me. This sponsor gift, for example, is a small case of eye shadow. I examine it for a second, and then toss it to the side. It breaks against a tree and spills the electric green powder all over the ground.

_Well, at least they cared enough to match the eye shadow to the color of my interview dress,_ I think sarcastically.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I yell up at the sky, "Makeover the Career tributes until they die of embarrassment? Why don't you send me something useful for once, like a mace? Think about my survival! I don't exist to give you a good show, and I won't take a break from the Hunger Games to touch up my makeup for you!" I kick the container for good measure and storm away. If I'm lucky, I won't get any more sponsor gifts because of my rudeness. I don't need their help.

I wonder if Meredith has gotten anything today. Yesterday, somebody sent her three pairs of earrings. She couldn't use them, of course. She told me that if someone gets their ears pierced in District 8, it's usually an accident with one of the sewing machines.

"Meredith!" I holler one last time. I sit down on a rock. If she doesn't want to come to dinner, that's her loss. I'm not so worried about what she's up to. I didn't hear a single cannon today. I'm about to light a fire and start cooking the rabbit I caught when I hear a shout.

"Sparta!" somebody calls out. It's Meredith.

"Meredith?" I ask, "Is that you?"

"Sparta, help!" she cries.

"I'm coming! Don't worry!" I yell, running through the trees. I have to swing my sword back and forth in front of me to hack through the thick vines blocking my way. In a moment, I find a clearing. Meredith is there, but I'm too late. I arrive just in time to see the boy from 4 pull out his blood-covered trident as my ally's cannon sounds.

"No!" I gasp. The boy hears me and turns in my direction.

"Hey, Kyanite! I found another one!" he yells. The boy from 1, who must be known as Kyanite, appears out of the trees with a wickedly sharp-looking sword in his hand. I immediately start to run back the way I came. I don't need to make a path through the vines this time, since I've already chopped them to pieces. But after I pass by the clearing where I discarded the case of eye shadow, I have to start swinging my sword again. The Careers probably appreciate me clearing the way for them, because they're catching up fast.

Soon enough, I reach another clearing. As I'm sprinting across it, my foot catches on something and I fall face-first to the ground. When I turn myself around to find out what tripped me, I see a silver parachute, the telltale sign of a sponsor gift. Tied to it is the mace that I asked for. When I look up, Kyanite is swinging his blade towards my head. It only takes a split-second to realize that's the last thing I'm ever going to see.

FATE: The sponsor gift system was very confusing when it first began. Sponsors didn't donate money; they chose the gifts themselves. They could be sent into the arena for a very low price. Since the only victors at this time were from Districts 2 and 8, District 5 didn't have a mentor deciding which gifts to send and when they were sent. This year, one careless sponsor sent a gift at just the wrong moment, costing Sparta her life. But don't worry. Kyanite didn't win the Games. The boy from 4 became victor this year.

**Please please please review! And if you have any suggestions for chapters in The Highlights, I would love to hear them! :D**


	4. The Snake in The Grass (Woof)

**This is Chapter 4! Just wanted to say, one of the characters, Sunny, was NOT based off of a person. Because there's a girl I know named Sunny, and I'm sure she's really nice, nothing like the Sunny I'm writing about here. :) I just liked the idea of the name Sunstone for someone from District 1, and the whole theme of nicknames gave me the idea to change it to Sunny. Just saying :) Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

The 4th Hunger Games

Wolfram "Woof"

District 8

My real name's Wolfram, but nobody calls me that. "Woof" became my permanent nickname when I was eleven. What can I say? I'm one of those unfortunate people who had a little brother who just couldn't pronounce their name. By the time he learned how to say "Wolfram" it was too late. I love my brother, but I wish he had learned to speak sooner. What's more, my tiny hope to be called anything other than "Woof" was crushed when I was sixteen. If your nickname is what's called at the reaping before you go off to the Hunger Games, trust me, it's gonna stick.

"Hey, Woof!" says Sunny. She's got a nickname, too, but at least it suits her. Her real name is Sunstone, and she's from District 1. She's talking to me because we're allies. We're allies because her original alliance, the Career pack, turned on her. And finally, the Career pack turned on her because she talks so much she scares off every tribute within a mile.

She's truly lost without them. She has no knowledge of plants whatsoever, and couldn't build a decent shelter if her life depended on it. In this case, her life does depend on it, so she allied with me. She threatened to kill me if I didn't help her, so I agreed. She may be clueless when it comes to survival, but she can definitely fight. I'm torn between feeling sorry for her, getting annoyed because of her, and being terrified of her.

"What is it?" I ask tiredly, not looking up from the snare I'm trying to set. I gave up hunting long ago, because of my "ally", of course. Now I've resorted to setting traps, then walking someplace far away, and taking Sunny with me.

"Let's climb up a tree tonight. I'm tired of sleeping on the ground," Sunny complains.

"I can't climb, Sunny," I tell her.

"Well you'd better learn, then, because we're sleeping in the trees," she says, pointing her dagger towards the nearest pine.

"It's too early to sleep."

"I know that," replies Sunny, "We'll just come back here."

"Or we could go back to our camp."

"Or we could come back here."

"Fine," I say with a sigh, "We can come back here. We just have to get our supplies." Sunny laughs.

"Oh, we don't need those," she says, "Let's just set up a new camp. Start over. It'll be fun! I love a challenge." At this, I turn around to stare at her.

"We can't do that. We need those supplies!" I exclaim.

"No, we don't! We'll catch food in your snares, like we always do," Sunny says.

"What about matches? And rope? And our water bottles? Listen to me, Sunny. We only have one chance to get out of here alive, so you can't keep treating this like it's a game!" I say. For a second, she looks as though she's about to punch my lights out, but she composes herself.

"You're no fun," she says, folding her arms and sitting down on a rock.

"Snares are set," I tell her, "Let's go back to the camp."

Sunny chatters away about who-knows-what as we walk. I'm not really listening. Suddenly, she falls silent. I turn to find her staring at me.

"What?" I ask. She rolls her eyes.

"Weren't you listening? I said, why don't we stop and pick some berries? These look good, right?" She points to a bush full of very small, very red, and very poisonous berries. The kind of berries you stay away from if you value your life. I'm about to tell Sunny when I have an idea. An idea that quickly turns into a sure-fire escape plan.

"Yeah," I tell her, "But we should probably save them for later. We don't want to run out of food this early in the Games." Sunny nods.

"Pick them, then," she says.

"You're not going to help me?" I ask.

"Nope," she says, pulling out her dagger and pointing it at me.

"All right, then. I'll do it myself," I say, shaking my head. I fill a pouch with the poisonous fruit. When we start moving again, I walk behind Sunny so I can wash off my hands with the contents of my water bottle. Sunny doesn't seem to notice, since she's busy talking about the dresses she'll wear on the Victory Tour.

When we reach our camp, Sunny immediately orders me to carry our supplies back to the place where I set the snares.

"Just me?" I ask.

"That's right," says Sunny.

"I think you ought to carry some of it. What if I ran off with all of your supplies?"

"I'd catch you," she says with a grin, polishing her dagger on the edge of her jacket.

"You would?" I ask.

"You can count on it." Sunny puts her dagger away, "Now go on. We have to make it to that tree by nightfall." I put on the supply backpacks and stack a couple boxes into a pile before lifting them. We're lucky to have so many supplies. If I ran away in the middle of the night, could I be one hundred percent sure she'd eat the berries instead of something else? Would she eat anything if she woke up and I was missing? I don't want to be on Sunny's bad side, which I undoubtedly will be if she finds me gone in the morning and immediately sets out to kill me on an empty stomach.

We know we've reached our new camp when I find one of my snares hanging above out heads. Nothing's caught in it.

"Guess we're eating berries tonight," says Sunny, shrugging. I probably overthought my plan. If she's so willing to eat the poisonous fruits, maybe this will be easier than I thought. But she'll know something's going on if I don't eat them with her.

"I set other snares, too. I'm going to go check them," I say, dumping our supplies on the ground and turning to walk away.

"Not so fast, Woof," says Sunny, standing up and pointing her dagger at me, "Don't want you to run away." I shrug.

"Come with me, then."

As we find empty snare after empty snare, I begin to fear we _will_ be eating berries tonight. But the last snare, to my relief, has a rabbit hanging from it. It also has a small tribute girl below it, frantically sawing at the rope with her knife. She hears us before she sees us, which is expected when you're traveling with Sunny.

"Hey, you!" Sunny calls. She runs forward with her dagger, but the little girl has already darted away. At least the rabbit is safe. I cut the rest of the rope away and take it down.

"Let's go back," I say.

"Okay, but in the morning, we're going hunting," says Sunny, "I want her face in the sky by tomorrow night." I nod, and start to walk back. When we reach the tree again, Sunny climbs up easily.

"Come on," she tells me, "Climb up!"

"I told you, I can't climb," I say. I'm telling the truth. I couldn't make it five feet up the ropes course in the Training Center.

"Just try it!" Sunny orders me. I grab a branch and start to pull myself up. As soon as I'm on top and reaching for another one, there's a loud cannon blast. This causes me to lose my balance and fall to the ground, where all the air is knocked out of my lungs.

"Woof? Are you all right?" asks Sunny.

"…Yeah," I gasp, "I'm fine. Think I'll just sleep on the ground."

"Suit yourself," Sunny tells me as I start to sit up. I unzip one of our supply backpacks and take out two sleeping bags. Then, I hand one up to Sunny and spread the other one out over the ground for me.

The anthem begins playing. After the Capitol seal, faces start to appear in the sky. The first picture is of Sunny's district partner. I look up to my "ally" for a reaction, but her face is expressionless. The District 1 boy is soon replaced by the little girl we caught trying to steal from my snare, who I learn is from District 10. Sunny groans.

"Wish I had gotten to kill her," she complains. The last picture is of the boy from District 12. He was the boy I sat next to at lunch on the last day of training.

"Well, I'm going to sleep," says Sunny, "You keep watch." I don't argue. This is the perfect time to put my plan into action.

FATE: Woof was smart to realize that he wouldn't have a chance of winning if he stayed with Sunny. She probably wouldn't have let him leave their alliance unless he was going back to District 8 in a wooden box. Once Sunny fell asleep, Woof gathered up all of the supplies and left the camp. He wasn't completely heartless, though. He left his former "ally" a backpack full of supplies, including a flashlight, a few matches, some water, and a leather pouch filled with small red berries. Her cannon sounded the next day. Woof spent the rest of his Games wondering if his berries had killed her. After defeating the girl from 2 in the finale and becoming the victor of the 4th annual Hunger Games, he finally got to watch the highlights. Those berries did kill Sunny, and however much he hated her, he never forgave himself for giving them to her.

**This was my first time writing about one of the Catching Fire victors! Except not much is revealed about Woof in the book, except for the fact that he tried to eat poisonous bugs in the Training Center. So his Games could have been anything! Many thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed The Highlights. :) You rock! And also, I want to say thank you to HogwartsDreamer113, for reviewing and favoriting my story. You're the reason up at midnight right now finishing chapter 4 :) **

**Please review! Not only do I love reading your comments, but sometimes they also remind me that I need to write the next chapter! :D And if you have any ideas for future chapters, I would absolutely love to hear them!**


	5. The Sleepwalker (Victor)

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while, I'm visiting my family in another state, and I haven't had chance to write it or the internet connection to upload it until now. :) My thanks to everyone for all the nice reviews! It really means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

The 5th Hunger Games

Victor

District 6

From the start of the second day in the 5th annual Hunger Games, I knew I was in trouble. That was the morning I woke up lying on the edge of a thirty-foot cliff, complete with jagged rocks at the bottom to break my fall. Of course, I didn't _actually_ fall. That would have meant I wouldn't wake up the next day five feet away from a cave containing a very angry mountain lion. I got a sponsor gift that helped me win that battle—a spear. By that point, I really didn't think I had any sponsors left, with all the trouble I had gotten myself into in just three days. But they could have remembered my 8 in training… or maybe they were just entertained with my constant sleepwalking.

_It's a miracle I've lasted a week in this arena_, I think to myself as I collect berries by the stream. As far as I know, it's made up of three or four mountain peaks, connected by pathways of rock. The Gamemakers made one of them crumble yesterday. I heard the rocks crashing against each other, and then four cannons sounded. Ten of us left. It's just my rotten luck that seven of us are Careers.

It's getting dark. After the pocket of my backpack is filled with berries, I try to find a safe place to spend the night. There isn't much vegetation for cover around here, and the caves are bound to be filled with dangerous animals. That's when I see a single scraggly tree, down by the rock pathway I have started to call "the Bridge."

I make my way down to the Bridge and set my backpack on the ground. Then, I eat my berries. They're probably the best-tasting food I've eaten since the Games began. I haven't really gotten used to the rabbits and squirrels yet. I make a mental note reminding myself to go back to that berry bush tomorrow.

When I finish my "dinner", I prepare to go to sleep in the same way I have for a week now. I take a length of rope out of my backpack and knot it around the tree. The other end is tied tightly around my wrist. I saw off the loose ends with my new knife. It wasn't a sponsor gift, like my spear. I found it on the ground today, outside one of the caves. Some unfortunate tribute must have stumbled upon another mountain lion.

After yanking on the rope a couple of times to make sure it won't break, I lay down to sleep. It's hard to get any rest, because the ground is so rocky, but I eventually give in to exhaustion.

_Tap, tap, tap_ is the first thing I hear when I wake. I want the annoying sound to stop. I want to go back to sleep. Who knew after resting here for a couple hours, the ground could feel so much more comfortable?

_And there's not as many rocks now_, I think as I start to drift off again. Wait. My eyes fly open. The ground I'm lying on is dusty, as always, but completely free of stones. Where am I? I raise my head. There are a few more trees here, and a couple blades of grass poke out from the hard-packed ground. I'm definitely not at my camp anymore. I can see the Bridge in the distance. I can still hear the slow tapping noise that woke me, but I can't see where it's coming from. All I'm aware of right now is that somehow, I've ended up in a place far more dangerous than the side of a cliff, or even a mountain lion's den. I'm surrounded by seven sleeping Career tributes, right in the middle of their camp.

_Just my rotten luck._

How could I have been sleepwalking? I tied myself to a tree! This must be a dream. Soon I'll wake up next to my tree again, or better yet, back in District 6. Even though I try hard to convince myself I'm in no danger, I'm forced back into reality when I glance at my hand. The rope is still tied around my wrist, but the end has been cut away. The knife. I curse myself silently. One of the Careers, the girl from 1, stirs in her sleep. I jump backwards, suddenly terrified, and almost step on the boy from District 2, who's already got a dagger in his hand. I need to get out of here.

I try to slowly make my way through their camp, but every step sounds as loud as a cannon blast to me. And for all I know, every step could be bringing me closer to my own cannon blast.

I walk very carefully around the boy from 4 as I start to make my way out of the camp. I'm terrified. My heart is thundering so loudly in my chest I'm afraid the Careers will wake up. Suddenly, a harsh voice breaks the silence.

"Going somewhere?" I immediately spin around in a full circle, trying to see where the voice had come from. But none of the Careers seem to be awake. The boy from 2 and the girls from 1 and 3 are still asleep on the ground where I woke up. The boy from 4 is lying facedown a few yards away, and I think I just stepped over his district partner. The girl from 2 is currently slumped against a tree.

The only sound I hear now is that constant _tap tap tap_, so I decide it's safe to keep moving. I'm so scared right now; I'm probably just hearing things. None of the Careers are awake. I have nothing to worry about. As soon as I take another step, I hear the voice again.

"Oh, don't get the wrong idea. You're not safe yet." I frantically search for the speaker again, and this time I find her. The girl from 2 has opened her eyes. She flashes me a cruel smile as she leisurely flicks the blade of her knife against a tree. _Tap, tap, tap_. She's been awake all along.

"Some of us are early risers," she says, "My name's Pandora. But you don't need to know that, since you have only about a minute to live." I remain frozen with fear as Pandora stands up and stretches. Terror has turned me to stone.

"Why aren't you running?" she asks, "I thought this would be more fun." She twirls the knife in her hand and waits for a reaction. "Oh, well. I'm not going to wait any longer. The others will wake up soon, and then I won't have you to myself anymore." As if on cue, Pandora's district partner starts to sit up.

"Who are you talking to, Pandy?" he asks drowsily.

"Go back to sleep, Phrixus. He's my kill," says Pandora, smiling at me. The boy called Phrixus seems to realize what she's saying just as the knife leaves her hand.

"Hey, wait! How'd he get here? How come you get to— "

FATE: As you can probably tell, Victor did not become victor this year. Pandora broke off from her alliance that day, and survived on her own as the Career pack fought until only one was left. At this point in the Games, two other tributes had been attacked by mountain lions, and one had fallen off one of the stone bridges with a knife in her back, courtesy of Pandora. Pandora fought and defeated her former ally one day later, making her the victor of the 5th Hunger Games.

**Please review! I really love hearing all your comments and ideas. I'm so glad you've read the stories this far, and I'll update as soon as I can :)**


	6. The Ally (Aurora)

**Here's chapter 6! :) Hope you like it!**

The 6th Hunger Games

Aurora

District 10

He's still chasing us. The monstrous boy from District 2 found our latest hiding spot an hour ago and we've been on the run ever since. Pyrrhus and I are fast, but we can't keep it up much longer. The boy and his alliance of Career tributes have been tracking us for a while now. We haven't slept in days. I grab my district partner's hand.

"Come on! He's gaining!" I say.

"I can't run much longer," Pyrrhus pants.

"You have to!" I exclaim, pulling on his arm. He's slowing down.

"I'm not as fast as you are, Aurora," he says, gasping for breath, "Keep running."

"I'm not leaving you," I say.

"Go. He'll be here in a second," says Pyrrhus, pushing me forward.

"Please," I beg him, "Just a little while longer. Then we'll be safe."

"We're never going to be safe!" he argues. Still, he starts to run a little faster. The boy from 2 crashes through the bushes behind us. I sprint through the trees, gripping Pyrrhus's hand tightly, tears streaming down my face. It's hopeless.

Suddenly, I trip over a root and fall facedown on the ground. Pyrrhus, still holding onto my hand, is thrown into a strange kind of somersault and lands somewhere behind me. The boy from 2 stops running and leans against a tree, where he takes a moment to catch his breath.

"I've got you now," he says with a grin. He walks over to us and raises his axe. Suddenly, he gets a confused expression on his face. He drops his weapon. The blade buries itself in the ground frighteningly close to my head. Then, he stumbles forward and falls to the ground beside me, entirely unconscious.

Bewildered, I start to sit up again. Pyrrhus groans and rubs the back of his head.

"I'm not dead, am I?" he asks. I laugh a little at his joke.

"What happened?" I wonder. I look at the boy who hoped to kill us, lying motionless on the ground. There's something small and metal sticking out of his neck.

"He's still breathing," I note.

"Well, that dashed the moment," says a new voice, "I used the wrong dart." I look up to see a teenage girl step out from the bushes, holding a blowgun. A boy who looks to be the same age follows close behind. I don't recognize either of them, but they both have the dark hair, skin, and eyes of tributes from District 11.

"I told you to sort them last night, Jacinth," says the boy.

"Well, as long as I got him," responds the girl, who must be called Jacinth. She tucks the blowgun under her arm and tries to unzip a pouch fastened on her belt.

"Could you speed this up? We don't have much time. The other Careers will be here any second," says the boy. Jacinth takes out a small metal dart from her pouch and sticks it inside her blowgun.

"There. This should finish him," she says, pointing her weapon towards Pyrrhus and I. We both gasp and scramble backwards. Jacinth blows a puff of air into the gun and the dart shoots out the other end, into the boy from 2's neck. After a moment, a cannon fires.

"There we go," says Jacinth. Only then does she turn to us.

"District 10, right?" she asks. I nod quickly.

"Good." She extends her hand and pulls me to my feet. Her ally helps Pyrrhus up. Enormously confused, I ask a question.

"Who are you?" Jacinth laughs.

"My name's Jacinth," she replies, "And this is Leandros. We're from District 11."

"I'm Aurora," I say. "This is Pyrrhus."

"Wonderful!" says Jacinth, "Come with us to camp. We've still got to introduce you to the others."

"What others?" I ask.

"The other tributes, silly. In our alliance."

"Alliance?" asks Pyrrhus.

"Of course," says Leandros, "We outer districts have to stick together. We'll explain it when we get there." Pyrrhus and I don't see any point in arguing—whoever they are, they just saved our lives—so we follow them.

After a short while, we arrive at a clearing. There's a good amount of supplies stacked in a pile on one side of the camp. Two other tributes, a boy and a girl with dark hair and grey eyes, sit on two supply boxes in the middle of the clearing.

"Hey, you two! Meet our new allies, Aurora and Pyrrhus. They're from District 10. Aurora and Pyrrhus, this is Violet and Alder, from District 12."

"Hi," says Violet, giving us a wave. Alder doesn't say anything.

"Don't take it personally," whispers Leandros, "Alder's not much of a talker."

"Where's Terrence?" asks Jacinth.

"Present!" exclaims a blond-haired boy as he stumbles into the clearing, "Sorry, I was just picking some more berries." He holds up a leather pouch.

"You missed the introduction," says Jacinth, "This is Aurora, and this is Pyrrhus." She points at each of us as she says our names. "District 10. You two meet Terrence. District 9."

"I'm still a little confused," I say, "Why do you want Pyrrhus and I in your alliance?"

"Well, Leandros and I think it's unfair for the volunteer districts to have so many advantages in the Games," explains Jacinth, "Not only are they trained, but they hunt in a big pack. We decided to make our own pack. So we tried to track down all the tributes from the outer districts. You know, 9, 10, 11, and 12. And now, everyone's finally here! Well, except for the girl from…" She glances at Terrence, who's quickly become very interested in his shoes. "Never mind."

"Let's eat dinner," says Leandros. He sits down on a supply box, like the District 12 tributes. Jacinth, Terrence, Pyrrhus and I sit on the ground. Alder wordlessly passes around pieces of rabbit to all of us.

"Thank you," I say. He nods.

"Did you get all this from the Cornucopia?" asks Pyrrhus, gesturing to the supplies.

"Oh, no," says Leandros, "We stole it."

"From the Careers!" adds Violet enthusiastically.

"Really?" I ask.

"That's right," says Jacinth.

"Have they noticed?" I wonder.

"You bet they have," laughs Jacinth. I smile. For the first time since the Games began, I'm not terrified of the Careers. Because they aren't the only ones who have an alliance. Not anymore.

"Okay," says Leandros, "Let's get down to business. As you know, we're waiting to break our alliance until the tributes from the middle districts have all been…eliminated. But there are still three left: The girl from 8, the boy from 5, and the boy from 7. We think they'll prove to be challenging kills for the Careers. It won't take long for them to lose interest and come after us. So Jacinth and I have a plan to take out the Career alliance."

"Really?" I ask, "How?"

"I don't care. Count me in," says Terrence.

"Me too," says Violet. Alder nods his head.

"What kind of plan?" asks Pyrrhus.

"There are only two alliances left: The Career pack, and our alliance," says Jacinth, "The Careers have hunted us outer-district tributes since the Games began. Our plan, if you're willing to be a part of it, is to hunt _them_ for a change. We know where their camp is. We have weapons of our own. We even have more tributes than them, now that Aurora and Pyrrhus are here."

"What are you saying?" asks Pyrrhus.

"I'm saying we should attack the Careers," says Jacinth.

"What?" exclaims Terrence, "We can't do that!"

"Of course we can," says Leandros.

"They'll kill us all!" says Violet. Alder nods.

"Yeah!" I chime in, "They have years of training. What do we have?"

"Like I said before, we have weapons and we have tributes. And we'll attack them while they sleep, so we also have the element of surprise. What more do we need?"

"Well…Nothing, I guess," I say.

"Then let's do it," says Terrence.

"Yeah," agrees Violet. Alder nods again.

"I don't know," says Pyrrhus, "It can't be as easy as it sounds."

"It could be our only chance," says Jacinth, "We need to kill them before they kill us."

"And then what?" I ask.

"Then, whoever's left will go their separate ways," says Leandros. _Whoever's left_.

"Well, I guess it'll be safer, on our own, after we attack the Careers. There won't be as many left to chase us," I say.

"Exactly," says Jacinth, "So…Tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night," confirms Terrence.

The next morning, nobody says a word until after breakfast.

"All right, then," says Jacinth, breaking the silence, "Tonight, we attack the Careers. Time to plan."

"Does anyone have a weapon of choice? Something they worked on in the Training Center?" asks Leandros. All of us are silent.

"I can use a spear," says Alder. We all turn to stare at him, this being the first time he's spoken since we've met.

"Are you good?" asks Leandros, maybe just trying to get the boy from 12 to talk again. Alder shrugs in response.

"Okay, doesn't anyone else have a weapon they can use?" asks Jacinth. Silence.

"Guess we'll just have to improvise, then."

FATE: That night, the alliance bravely snuck into the Career camp. Alder was armed with a spear, and Jacinth with her blowgun. Leandros had a knife. The other tributes, none of which could fight properly, were equipped with swords. Aurora was only twelve, and very small, so she got a dagger instead. When they reached the camp, all of the six Careers were asleep, with the exception of their guard, the boy from District 1. It proved very hard to kill him. Soon enough, all of the Careers were awake, and none of them were dead. Aurora was one of the first casualties of the battle. Violet, Pyrrhus, Terrence, Jacinth and Leandros died soon afterwards. The remaining tribute managed to escape with his life, and went on to win the Hunger Games, even after the failed attack. Alder became District 12's first and only victor until the second Quarter Quell. As it turns out, he really could use that spear.

**I hope you liked the chapter! I'm sorry I killed all those characters at once :( That Career pack is pretty hard to take down. Please review!**


	7. The Collector (Calvin)

**Hey everyone! Credit for the idea of this chapter goes to finnickandannieforever. She came up with a unique arena, which is an ENORMOUS part of the chapter, just so I don't give any spoilers. So, thank you finnickandannieforever! And also, thank you to everyone who reviewed! Especially Grace, since I can't send her a PM. You rock! Thanks so much!**

The 7th Hunger Games

Calvin

District 6

I try hard to conceal my despair as my pedestal clicks into place. I wanted to prepare myself for everything I could see when I rose into the arena, but I _never_ anticipated the scene before me. It's a barren desert, stretching out as far as I can see. Not a tree in sight. But that isn't the worst of it. The Cornucopia is completely empty.

"What is this?" says a voice from a few tributes over. It's one of the Career tributes; the boy from 4. He looks furious. All of the Careers do. Most of the others just look shocked. We needed those supplies. Isn't this breaking some sort of rule? No, that's not right. The Hunger Games has no rules. The Cornucopia is just a trap to lure all of us tributes into a fight. A bloodbath. The Gamemakers must want to try something new. And I would hate them for it, if I didn't already hate them for so many other reasons.

The gong sounds and I nearly fall flat on my face as I try to dismount the pedestal. With no supplies to tempt us into battle, everyone scatters immediately. Only the Career tributes run towards the Cornucopia, where they find absolutely nothing, of course. One of them, the boy from 1, tries to chase after a few of the tributes, but he doesn't catch them. I hide nearby, behind a sand dune. I don't believe this! There has to be something there! One backpack? A single box of matches? I have to find water, at least. The Careers all leave eventually, on their daily hunt for tributes, and I come out of hiding.

There must be something inside. It can't just be _empty_. I half run, half slide down the dune and make my way to the Cornucopia. There's nothing inside, except for a few grains of sand. I walk around the giant gold horn, but I don't find anything. I sit down on the ground. It's hopeless. What am I going to do? I absentmindedly draw lines a patch of wet sand with my finger.

_When you're making a sandcastle, you have to find the perfect mixture of wet and dry sand to build it with._

I remember my older brother's words, on that warm summer day when we went to the seaside. If you tried to build a castle with only dry sand, it would crumble to dust easily. But if you used wet sand…wet sand. I look down to the ground. Of course! I start digging into the ground with my hands. A small mountain of sand starts to form behind me. Suddenly, I find it. A water bottle! And it's full! The top has unscrewed slightly, and the water is spilling out. Wet sand. I screw the cap back on and keep digging.

Next, I discover a weapon. It's a throwing knife. In a matter of minutes, I dig up half a dozen more. The supplies are all underground! I'm overjoyed by this discovery. Not only have I found the supplies, but I'm the _only_ one who's found them. I have them all to myself! I could have a chance in these Games yet.

I dig up a backpack full of food and a first aid kit before I hear the Careers. I haven't heard any cannons, so I suspect they were unsuccessful in their hunt. I start to frantically fill in the holes I made. When I'm done, I throw some sand over my footprints and run back to my hiding place.

All six Careers seem frustrated, the boy from 4 most of all. He keeps pacing around the camp, and yelling all sorts of profanities at the Gamemakers. I smile.

_Poor Careers_, I think mockingly, _Wouldn't killing tributes be so much easier if you had weapons?_ I'm not afraid they'll find me. I don't think they could imagine a tribute would dare to hide close by. The Capitol seal appears in the sky before long, and the anthem begins to play. But no faces appear in the sky.

When I wake up the next morning, the Careers have already left. They don't leave behind a guard, probably because they think there isn't anything here to guard. After a breakfast of dried fruit and beef jerky from my pack, I head down to the Cornucopia. I get to my knees and start digging again.

It's exhausting work, excavating all the supplies from the ground. I dig up a few more weapons, which I stack into a pile behind me. I arrange a dozen water bottles in a line, right in front of a row of backpacks. I look up from the sand only when two cannons sound, one after the other. I guess the Careers managed to kill without their weapons. I push aside the frightening thought and continue digging.

I've just unearthed an impressive weapon with a jagged metal blade when I hear a noise behind me. I turn around to see the boy from 4 standing less than two feet away. He's holding a sword from my pile of weapons. The rest of the Careers are standing behind him, all of them smiling at their good fortune.

"What do we have here?" asks the boy. His allies snicker. "Looks like you've found our supplies." There's nowhere to hide. What am I saying? There's nowhere to _run_. All I can do is raise my weapon and fight. Unfortunately, that's just what they want me to do.

FATE: Calvin did not win this fight. The Career tributes dug up the rest of the supplies and put them back in the Cornucopia, where they belonged. A few other tributes discovered the stockpile, and kept themselves alive by stealing food and other supplies.

**Hope you liked it :D Sorry it's so short :( Thanks again to finnickandannieforever! Please review! I love reading your comments, and I really want to know if you liked it :D**


	8. The Haunted (Claudius)

**I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, I'm back to school and I started a new story, The Victor From 12. If you haven't seen it yet, please check it out, I'm very proud of what I've written so far :D Anyway… This chapter is a little different from the others, but I hope you like it anyway!**

The 8th Hunger Games

Claudius

District 2

"Ten!"

Can't believe I'm doing this.

"Nine!"

_You're doing it for your own good, Claude._

"Eight!"

Get out of my head, Maggie.

"Seven!"

_Don't you think I would if I could? This place is so…empty._

"Six!"

That's very funny.

"Five!"

_It's very true. Now concentrate._

"Four!"

How am I supposed to concentrate with my dead sister's voice ringing in my brain?

"Three!"

_Hey. Easy with the D word, Claudius._

"Two!"

Just tell me what to do.

"One!"

_Go for the axe. NOW!_

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 8th Hunger Games begin!"

I jump off my pedestal, shove another unfortunate tribute out of my way, and race towards the Cornucopia. With Margaret screeching at me the entire way, I can barely hear my own thoughts over hers. It was like then while she was alive, too. We were practically the same person. Same red hair, same brown eyes, same bad habit of finishing each other's sentences. Except she didn't start to speak inside my head until she died in the Hunger Games last year. It seems like part of her came back. Maybe to help me win my Games.

_Stop daydreaming and get the axe!_

I grab the weapon's long handle. I hear a noise behind me and swing the axe as I turn, embedding it in the chest of the boy from District 6. My eyes widen as he falls to the ground. I just _killed_ him.

_Don't be a baby. Get that girl over there._

I look to my right to see the girl from 7, struggling to run with an injury to her leg, dragging a bedroll into the forest. I race over, axe in hand. She stumbles over her bedroll as she turns to look up at me, and falls backwards onto the ground. She stares at me with wide, green eyes.

_Kill her, Claude._

I take a deep breath and raise the axe. She's young. Too young. Must be just twelve or thirteen years old. Some of her light-colored hair is stuck to the side of her head with blood coming from a gash on her forehead. She has a small backpack, as well as the bedroll that tripped her over, which must have been tough to get, considering the injuries she's gotten. It hits me. This little girl was going to make it out of the bloodbath alive.

_What are you waiting for? Kill her and move on!_

A bloodbath tribute who was almost lucky enough to escape. She's only a child. Maybe she would have died in some other way if Margaret hadn't pointed her out.

_Come on, Claudius!_

Maybe I wouldn't have to kill the little girl. She fought hard for those supplies. She deserves to win one battle, even if she doesn't win the war. She still looks startled, despite my obvious hesitation. Her mouth moves, and I can just make out a few quiet words.

"Please, don't," she squeaks. Her eyes fill up with tears. This is someone's daughter. Someone's little sister.

_Don't fall for it, Claude, she could turn out to be dangerous. Just end her and get on with it!_

Margaret's wrong. This kid won't hurt anyone. She couldn't if she tried. She'll die tomorrow, at the latest. I start to lower my weapon, and her eyes brighten.

_DO IT, CLAUDE!_

My axe swings down forcefully on its own accord and buries itself in the little girl's head. Her face is frozen in a scream that never happened. And Margaret's laughing like it's all a big Game.

FATE: Claudius never figured out how Margaret was able to control him like that. He tried his hardest not to let it happen again, but it did. When there were two tributes left and it looked like Claude was giving up on life, his twin forced him to kill his former-ally and friend. Claudius won the Hunger Games. He never heard his sister's voice in his head again. It looked like Margaret was gone for good…

**I hope you liked this slightly different chapter! Was it good? Bad? Creepy? Sad? Weird? Please tell me! :D I love reviews so much!**


	9. The Pyro (Aurelia)

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, especially Claire, since I can't reply to her! And a very happy early birthday to amamelia5452, who is awesome! Please read her fanfiction because it's amazing! **

**I got an overwhelmingly good response for the last chapter, and I want to thank you all so much for making my day awesome!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Warning: I tried to write about someone with pyromania… please tell me if I did it wrong!**

**And now, a story about the Games' very first "Fire Girl."**

The 9th Hunger Games

Aurelia

District 2

It all started when I burned down the stupid kitchen. I was nine then. There were these blue curtains hanging on the single window, right above the sink. One day, I struck a match and lit them on fire. Then it spread to the wall, and then the cabinets were burning, too. I didn't get to watch the rest of it burn, though, because I passed out from smoke inhalation. I remember waking up in an unfamiliar place. A hospital, I think. But don't worry. I was completely unharmed. Can't say the same for the kitchen, though.

While the house was still being reconstructed, my parents sent me to live at the Academy for Volunteers in our district, where I would train to compete in the Hunger Games. A realization hit me out of nowhere. They wanted to get rid of me. I was so hurt and confused, and I really tried to get better so they would change their minds. But nothing I did mattered anymore. I got over it eventually. They sent me away, but surely they knew it didn't mean I'd be gone forever. I will win the Hunger Games, and make them regret ever turning their backs on me.

I did well at the volunteer school. At first, wanting to keep the new friends I had made, I tried desperately to stay away from fire. I threw out my old matches and locked my lighters away. But soon, I discovered how fire could be an advantage in the arena. I embraced my 'talent'. And I turned it into my weapon.

"Hey Fire Girl! Are you done being useless? Come grab a box! We're leaving!" shouts Sid from across the campsite, jolting me out of my thoughts. And that brings me to my current location and situation, in the arena of the 9th annual Hunger Games, putting up with more of the nonsense that is Obsidian Moore from District 1. He, Olive, Jade, and Hadrian are all trying to lift various crates and boxes containing the supplies we have left.

"I don't know, Obsidian. Are you done being obnoxious?" I ask, folding my arms. Sid glares at me.

"Just come over and help us, Aurelia," says Hadrian. He's my district partner.

"Fine," I say, rolling my eyes and walking over. I pick up a box, and laugh when I find it's my box; the one filled with explosives from the Cornucopia.

"Remind me again why we're allies?" says Jade. She's Sid's district partner.

"You'd be dead by now if I was your enemy," I remind her honestly, "Completely gone. The hovercraft wouldn't find a single piece of you big enough to send home to your family." Jade looks a combination of terrified, disgusted, and furious. That's pretty hard to pull off, especially when you're someone as clueless as she is. She's about to say something back when Olive, the girl from 4, speaks.

"Where are we going, anyway?" she asks.

"The Cornucopia. We have to go back and set up camp there," replies Sid.

"Why?" I ask, "It's fine here."

"It's not fine here, not now that the boy from 9 has a bow," says Sid, "We need a place that's arrowproof. We'll sleep inside the Cornucopia so he can't kill us from a distance." I nod.

Even with all five of us, we can't carry our supplies the entire way. We stop to rest when we're about halfway there. I can just make out the glittering gold surface of the Cornucopia through the trees. I take a drink from my water bottle and examine my hands. Shoot. Now I can add blisters to the list of things I've got to worry about.

I spot a low hanging branch on a nearby pine tree. The pine needles are a vivid green color. It makes me wonder how long it would take them to turn a different color when subjected to…fire. I can't help myself. I dig a matchbox out of my pocket and strike a match, determined to find out. A tiny flame immediately starts to flicker at the tip of the stick. I hold my little fire close to a clump of needles, and the flame gets slowly bigger. Yes, they're already turning a dull brown color. _Splash!_ Jade throws the entire contents of her water bottle on the fire and on me.

"What was that?" I demand.

"Are you insane? What do you think you're doing?" Jade yells at me.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're trying to get us all killed! Don't you know how fast flames can spread in a place like this?" she shrieks.

"Mind your own business!" is all I can think of to scream back.

"You're crazy," Jade says, "You're a danger to all of us."

"No I'm not!" I shout. Jade is silent. She's staring in horror at one of my hands. I turn to see that, during our argument, I seem to have lit another match. I'm holding it over my box of explosives.

"Aurelia," says Hadrian carefully, "Please put that down." After a moment of hesitation, I drop the match on the ground beside me and stamp it out with my boot. I hear the members of my alliance let out a collective sigh of relief, however much they try to quiet it.

"Thank you," says Hadrian.

"Shut up," I tell him, sitting down on a rock. Though he's the most tolerable ally I've got, I don't want to talk to anyone.

"Let's keep moving," says Sid, "We're almost there." I reach down to pick up my box, but Hadrian stops me.

"I think you should let me carry that this time, Aurelia," he tells me. I reluctantly step back and choose another box to carry. I don't want to start another argument.

When we finally make it to the Cornucopia, Hadrian—the only one who dares make fun of me—deems me "incapable of being within 20 feet of explosives without setting something off" and makes a big show of placing my box as far away from me as possible. I'm the only one who laughs at his joke. The rest of them are probably too scared to show any noticeable emotion around me anymore. It's fine. I like it this way. But Hadrian and I knew each other before the Games, so it's all right for him to joke.

I start an excellent fire for us at night, controlled, of course. We eat dinner and talk about which tributes we'll hunt down in the morning. Once it's decided that our first victim will be the girl from 6, I stand up.

"I'm going to sleep," I announce. I grab a random sleeping bag and retire to the Cornucopia for the night, leaving the others sitting around the fire. After tossing and turning for a few minutes, I find that I can't relax. So I listen to the voices outside the Cornucopia.

"She's unstable," Jade is saying, "Didn't you see how close we all were to being blown up today?"

"Yeah," says Sid, "We should get rid of her while we still can."

"It's not her fault, Sid," says Hadrian, "She's a bit of a pyromaniac. Means she always wants to set things on fire."

"I know what it means," says Sid.

"I only heard _maniac_," says Jade, "Which is exactly what she is."

"Yeah," says Olive, "And it doesn't matter if it's her fault or not. She's dangerous."

"Well, of course," says Hadrian, "Aren't we all? Isn't that the point of being a volunteer?"

"I meant she's dangerous to us," says Olive, "She has to die soon if one of us is going to be victor."

"Just give her a second chance," argues Hadrian.

"This _was_ her second chance," says Sid.

"Yeah, whose side are you on?" demands Jade. Hadrian says nothing.

"Go ahead," says Sid, "Choose now, why don't you?" Hadrian still doesn't say anything. He grabs a sleeping bag and walks into the Cornucopia. I shut my eyes and try to slow my breathing, hoping it looks like I'm asleep.

"It's settled, then," says Sid to the remaining tributes around the campfire, "We'll kill Fire Girl in the morning." Then, he pours out his water bottle and extinguishes the campfire's flames.

I wake up with a spear hovering just above my chest. I immediately roll out of the way before I even register that it's morning. My former allies seem quite startled that I don't look surprised by the surprise attack.

"Why don't you fight me face to face, Obsidian?" I shout, grabbing my knife and leaping to my feet. I stop short, though, when I see that it's not Sid holding the spear, but Jade.

"Where's Sid?" I growl, "Where is he?" Jade drops the spear, looking frightened by my anger.

"He went hunting," she says.

"Go find him," I order, "I'm not going anywhere." Olive snorts.

"What's the matter, Fire Girl? We're not good enough for you?" she says, laughing.

"Take Olive with you," I tell Jade. "Now leave." Jade and Olive don't move.

"GO!" I shout. They nearly trip over each other grabbing a bunch of random weapons and running towards the forest. Guess I really made an impression yesterday.

"Hadrian, stay here," I say, grabbing his arm as he starts to follow them. He looks at me uncertainly.

No sooner have my former allies disappeared into the trees then I walk over to my box of explosives. I open the top and start digging through the weapons. I take out a few sticks of dynamite, one after the other, until I have an armful of dangerous explosives. I walk along the edge of the forest, positioning the sticks at twenty-foot intervals. As I begin linking them together with my spool of extra fuse string, Hadrian taps me on the shoulder.

"Aurelia, what are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm going to finish what I started," I reply, not taking my eyes off my weapons, "A forest fire."

"What?" exclaims my district partner, "You can't do that!"

"Watch me," I tell him, knotting the string and standing up, "Get back. Far back, behind the Cornucopia. Block your ears and protect your head." Hadrian's eyes widen in horror. He looks like he's about to protest, but he just nods and starts running up the hill to the Cornucopia.

I strike a match and kneel down next to the first stick of dynamite. As soon as I light the fuse I realize I should have extended the string. I don't have enough time. I start to run up the hill frantically. I trip and fall just as the first explosion rocks the arena. I curl up in a ball and cover my head as dirt and stones rain down on me.

I struggle to my feet and start to stumble towards the Cornucopia. I dive behind the golden horn just as another stick explodes. My ears are ringing terribly, and Hadrian's voice sounds far away when he speaks.

"What?" I ask.

"Are you okay?" he asks again. I nod my head weakly and give him a thumbs-up. _BOOM!_ I cover my ears and bow my head. Dirt and rocks fly over the Cornucopia. _BOOM!_ Another explosion sounds before all of them hit the ground. _BOOM!_ I wonder if this will earn me sponsors. _BOOM!_ Shouldn't I be hearing cannons by now? _BOOM!_ It's a miracle I'm hearing anything right now. _BOOM!_ One more left, I think. _BOOM!_ Is it over? _BOOM!_ Nope, that was number ten. I look over at Hadrian, who's just unblocking his ears. He has a horrified look on his face as he turns to me.

"What did you do?" he exclaims. I stand up unsteadily and hold out my hand. Hadrian takes it and I help him to his feet. We walk around the side of the Cornucopia to assess the damage. I gasp in surprise. Craters have replaced about half of the forest's pine trees. The other half is consumed by a raging fire. I smile to myself as I watch. I hear five cannons, one after another. That's why I didn't hear them before. The Gamemakers usually wait until after a destructive event is over before announcing the deaths. It's what they do for the Cornucopia battle every year. I feel proud to have created something just as spectacular. There's a pause, and then I hear a shrill scream that could only belong to Jade. It's followed by a cannon.

"Who's laughing now?" I say, grinning.

FATE: Hadrian ran away that night. There were only three of them left, anyway: Hadrian, Aurelia, and the boy from 9. They would have had to split up soon. In the end, poor Hadrian was shot with one of the boy from 9's arrows. Aurelia killed him, not with fire or explosives, but with her knife. She wasn't as respected or celebrated a victor as Penelope, or even Claudius. The people of District 2 did enjoy having a lot of victors, but they preferred their tributes to win…fairly. They thought of explosives as cheating, almost. The Gamemakers might have also thought that way, because Aurelia's Games were the first and last time explosives and firearms were used in the arena.

**Please review! I'd love to know if you liked it, or if you have any ideas for future stories :)**

**I also have a question… who's your favorite tribute so far? :D**

**Thank you for reading! :D Please please please review!**


	10. The Furious (Tavie)

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! **

**And for those I can't reply to:**

**Claire: Thank you so so much!**

**Guest: Thank you! I had the idea after the 4****th**** of July :)**

**And a happy birthday to amamelia5452! * shoots a confetti cannon into the sky * Woo hoo!**

**And now, a very…er, ****_interesting_****, Hunger Games ;)**

The 10th Hunger Games

Octavian "Tavie"

District 2

"Attention tributes!" says the voice of Augustus Silverwood, "I have an announcement to make. In honor of the tenth anniversary of the Hunger Games, we will be sending in an interview team to record your responses to the events thus far in the arena. Please do not be alarmed when you see them. So you can easily identify the team, they will be dressed in bright blue uniforms. I cannot stress this enough, _please do not attack the interview team_. Thank you, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

"They can't do this!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up into the air in frustration. I pace around the camp, trying to find something invaluable to break.

"Something wrong?" laughs Flint. I stop, seriously considering the idea that he might just be invaluable enough… No. As much as I'd like to see him torn apart, I need him in the alliance.

"Shut up, District 1. I could kill you in a second," I remind him. He ignores me and remains in hysterics. I decide to let him laugh while he can. It won't be so funny when he's dead.

I've been in a bitter mood ever since the District 2 Winning Streak began. The pressure is on me. Friends, family, trainers, mentors. Their possibly final words to me were "Continue the winning streak, Tavie!" They don't care about me anymore. All they want is their winning streak. The worst part is that I can't disappoint them. I hate it when you have to die to prove a point. What's more, the Volunteer Alliance has been split in two this year. Flint's district partner, Jewel, and both tributes from 4 have formed their own alliance. Now, with only eight tributes left, they probably want to hunt us down.

"How do you think this is going to play out?" asks Nyx with a laugh. She's my district partner.

"It's a bad idea," I say, "Disrupts the Games completely." Just then, there's a rustle in the bushes. I draw my sword, ready for a fight.

"Stop! Do not attack. We mean you no harm," says a Capitol accented voice I automatically despise. Two men, dressed in bright blue, walk into our clearing. One holds a camera, and the other has a microphone. Do they think they can just come in here and interview us in the middle of the Hunger Games?

"Here we go," says Nyx when she sees the expression on my face.

"You have no right to be here," I growl at them, stepping forward to block their way into our camp.

"Of course we do, Octavian. We're here for the interviews," says one of them brightly, "Your audience wants to hear what you have to say about the Games."

"We're not here to please our audience. Leave us alone so we can focus on the Games!" In the background, I can hear Flint and Nyx talking.

"Wanna bet he loses it in the next minute?" Flint says. Nyx rolls her eyes.

"Betting here is pointless," she says, "I wonder if they'll have cannons for the camera crew."

"Guess we'll find out if they don't listen," says Flint.

"Would you two stop chatting and help me?" I order. They stand and walk over.

"What can we do for you?" asks Nyx calmly.

"As you've probably heard, we're here to interview the tributes," says the man with the microphone, "Would you answer a few questions for the audience?"

"Gladly," she replies.

"Gladly?!" I ask, furious, "We don't have to talk to these people!"

"Come on, District 2," says Flint, "It'll be fun. It's like a game."

"They're distracting you from the real Game that's going on here!" I exclaim.

"Oh, let them have their fun. The sooner we do what they say, the sooner they'll leave," says Nyx, "You'll see." I nod reluctantly and turn back to the blue-suited people.

"Make it fast," I say.

"First question: This one's for you, Nyx," says the man with the microphone, "You've been using a variety of weapons in the arena. If you had to pick just one to use, what would it be?" Nyx considers this for a moment.

"Well, if someone told me I could only pick one weapon, my first reaction would be to attack them, definitely. And if I quickly had to pick a weapon to kill them with, it would probably be a knife." She flashes a winning smile at the camera. Her goal was obviously to intimidate the camera crew and the audience, and it seems to be working.

"All right," the man says nervously, "Nyx, there's one more for you and then we'll move on to Flint, and then Octavian. Now, when do you plan to break off from your alliance?" This one catches Nyx off guard.

"What? I'm not breaking off from the alliance," she says "We said it before, we'll stick together until the other volunteers are dead, and then we'll fight it out."

"But your conversation with the tribute girl from district 8 gives us reason to believe—"

"You were talking to her? When?" I demand.

"Right before I brought her into camp, but I never said anything about—"

"I knew I heard something! I knew it!" exclaims Flint.

"Could we continue the interview?" asks Microphone Man, interrupting our argument.

"Fine. Just get on with it," I say.

"It's Flint's turn," he tells us, "Flint, why didn't you and your district partner become allies?"

"She didn't trust me or these two, so she made her own alliance. It's funny, how the leaders of both volunteer alliances are from District 1."

"You're not the leader," Nyx and I say at nearly the same time.

"Course I am," he replies.

"You are not!" I tell him. Before another argument can break out, Microphone Man cuts in again.

"Let's keep going. Flint, are the others aware of the poisonous berries you're hiding in your backpack and what you intend to use them for?" Flint looks around nervously. I answer for him.

"Not until now," I say. Nyx runs to get his backpack while I draw my sword. "You thought you were going to be the one to end the alliance, didn't you?" I say, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and holding the blade to his neck. Once again, Microphone Man interrupts.

"Octavian, kindly wait a minute before killing Flint. We still have another question for him."

"That's too bad," I say. I'm about to cut across his throat when Nyx calls out.

"These aren't poisonous!" she says, "He isn't trying to kill us. He's just hoarding the food." She throws down his pack, disgusted. I let go of Flint and lower my sword.

"Oh, good," says the man with the microphone, "Now, Flint, do you think Octavian's anger management troubles will make him easier to defeat when the time comes?" It takes both Flint and Nyx to hold me back as I lunge forward to attack the man. The loyalties of our alliance are changing with every question.

"Leave!" I yell, struggling to break free. The cameraman jumps back, but the man with the microphone continues talking.

"First, Octavian—"

"Now!" The blue-suited men both take a step back.

"We need to finish the interview!" Microphone Man exclaims. I stop fighting. Not because I'm going to let them finish the interview. Because I hear something.

"They're talking to the interview people," says a hushed voice, "Come on!" It's Jewel. Oblivious, Microphone Man keeps talking.

"Let's continue. Octavian—" I turn to Nyx and Flint.

"Jewel's coming," I tell them, "She's heard the interview team talking. She's got the tributes from 4 with her." My allies' eyes widen.

"But—" Flint starts.

"I told you. I told you and you didn't listen!" I exclaim, "Get your weapons. They're already here." Nyx picks up a spear and Flint grabs his knife. I draw my sword just as Jewel comes in with her allies.

Flint and Nyx rush right into battle. Instead of joining them, I turn to the idiots on the interview team. A few seconds later, I find out that the Gamemakers did not, in fact, have cannons for the camera crew.

FATE: Octavian became the victor, but he also was arrested for murder shortly after the Games ended. There was a long trial for his case, most likely because killing in the arena "ISN'T SUPPOSED TO COUNT!" in the words of Tavie himself. In the end, his sentence was shortened to just one year in prison. And after that, he was finally allowed to enjoy his life as victor.

**Please review, because according to State Symbols USA, today is National Cream-Filled Donut Day! I'll give everyone who reviews a virtual cream-filled donut!**


	11. The Career (Mags)

**AN: Sorry I took WAY too long with updating! I hope to be able to write a lot more often now. This arena was inspired by a review from nananakid! :) I apologize to you, especially, for waiting so long to write your chapter! Thank you for everyone who reviewed! * hands out cream-filled donuts to reviewers***

11th Hunger Games

Mags

District 4

What I always loved most about District 4 was the ocean. You could nearly always see it, or at least smell the salt in the air. No matter where you were in the district, you'd know the sea was there. I walked through the surf on the day I took my first steps. I went swimming at the end of the day I began training for the Hunger Games. I could see the ocean out of the corner of my eye, as I stood on the stage at the reaping. My name, out of thousands, had been picked.

They do it differently in District 4. If a kid training for the Games is reaped, they go in. It doesn't matter what their age is. I wasn't as unfortunate as the boy two years ago, who was only twelve and killed off at the Cornucopia. I turned sixteen a few months ago. And a few days ago, my name was pulled out of the reaping ball.

As I rise up on my pedestal, I desperately hope for an ocean nearby. Something to remind me of home, other than the turquoise pendant hanging around my neck.

It turns out, the odds really aren't in my favor. I crack a smile at my own joke, and hope it comes across as excitement for the Games. Because on the inside, I've broken down.

The arena is unlike any other I've seen. It's a bone-dry prairie. Just the opposite of what I had wished for every night since the reaping. But there's something more about this place, which replaces my despair with confusion. The only word that comes to mind is _ruins_. Because I couldn't call it a town.

Buildings in disrepair, which must mean to resemble shops, line the streets, with sagging roofs and boards nailed over the windows. A few have been demolished completely. And in the center of our wide circle of tributes, a large square building covered in chipped gold paint. It's meant to be our Cornucopia. Through the thick layer of dust covering the windows, I can see shelves stacked with supplies, walls lined with weapons.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the eleventh Hunger Games begin!"

The countdown has ended. I've spent my minute looking at the scenery instead of planning my next move! And now the Games have begun, ready or not. I jump down from my pedestal and sprint towards the Cornucopia. Before I have any time to wonder where the door is, the boy from 2 has launched himself through a window, sending shards of shattered glass flying. He calls for the rest of our alliance, and we follow him through the opening.

I take a split second to look around and am knocked flat on my face by the boy from 10. Furious, I grab his ankle and pull him down with me. I snatch the first weapon I see off the wall, a metal spear. But for some reason, I hesitate to drive it into his back. The girl from 1 beats me to it.

"Wake up, District Four!" she says with a smirk before pulling out her knife and moving on to some other unfortunate tribute. I lower my spear and focus on the supplies.

Shelf after shelf of rust-red backpacks in the back, a table full of smaller items and food in the front. Easy enough to defend. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the girl from 6 reaching for a backpack. How did she get over there so fast? I send my spear flying her way, and flinch when it hits its mark.

The other Careers aren't having trouble. I pull another weapon down from the wall, a sword. I've seen tridents and nets, but no sign of a water source.

The cannons begin to go off, signaling the end of the bloodbath, and our alliance meets in the center of the battlefield. Aetobatus, my district partner, asks how many are dead. I glance around the inside of the building. I can't find an exact number. I look away from the carnage to our own circle of tributes. All of us are here except the boy from District 1, presumably killed in the fight. I scan his district partner's face for any sign of emotion over losing the boy from her district, but her expression is blank. Next, I notice the girl from 2 has turned a sickly shade of grey. She's panting, even though she's standing in place. She looks slightly panicked as she tries to staunch the flow of blood from a wound on her side.

"Antonia?"

Suddenly her knees buckle, and she collapses to the wooden floor. Her district partner and I rush to her aid. The wound is deep. It looks as though it were made with an axe. Someone hands me a backpack, and I take out a roll of bandage. But my district partner stops me.

"Look, she's lost too much blood already," says Aetobatus sharply, "We can't waste our resources." The boy from 2 looks at him like he's gone insane, but a few moments later he's proven right. The cannon of our ally seems loudest of all.

"Let's move on," says Aetobatus, "We need to find a water source." I turn to the shattered window, surveying the surroundings until my gaze falls on a cracked wooden box. No, not a box. It's a well.

"There," I say, pointing, "We can start there." The other members of our alliance nod and start to file out the door.

_Well, Mags, you found yourself a water source. Aren't you a good Career now? _

_It isn't the same, and you know it._

**I apologize again for the long wait! Next chapter will be about the famous Delta Saunders, for those of you who know her. It will contain spoilers for The Victor From Twelve. :) Please review!**


	12. The Avenger (Delta)

**AN: I've been looking forward to writing this one! Meet Delta Saunders of District Four. She happens to be the younger cousin of Julius Saunders, a character in my other fanfiction, The Victor From Twelve. A warning, this chapter contains a spoiler for Julius's death.**

Delta

District 4

I can't stand it. The plate has only just begun to rise. My fists are clenched at my sides, ten manicured fingernails digging into my palms. I hate my stylist. I hate my prep team. I hate my escort. This is the Hunger Games. The show they make of it is pointless. That was my cousin's area of expertise, not mine.

Julius had never cracked under pressure. He was the perfect Career, a fighter and an entertainer. He must have had a line of sponsors all the way back to District 4.

I wish he were here. Not in the arena with me, just…not dead. It's a childish wish. It was Julius's choice to go into the Games. I was only twelve at the time. I'd worried for this safety, of course, but never considered the possibility that he would not return home alive.

And now I'm here, right where he was six years ago. But when I glimpse the arena, I can see immediately my Games will be different from his.

The water is murky and shallow, the same mixes of green-brown colors as bark. The trees appear to be drowning, their roots completely submerged in the muddy water. There's fog in the distance, so thick I can't see anything that lies beyond the circle of tributes.

Sixty seconds. In sixty seconds, the Games will begin. And in sixty seconds, I will achieve my first goal for the Hunger Games. Revenge. I'll kill a tribute from 12. Both of them, if I can. I want the victor of Julius's Games to suffer. An eye for an eye. My other target is the girl from 8. I don't care if she died on the same day, I'll get back at my cousin's murderer. I'll never forget her expression as she killed him; mouth twisted into a grimace, green eyes shining with fury. I hate it when she makes an appearance in my nightmares.

From my pedestal, I can see that the Cornucopia has been flooded, all the supplies submerged in knee-deep water. At least, it would be knee-deep for me. I've always been ungracefully tall, able to see over the heads of nearly everyone in my age group at training, as well as my allies in the Games. The other tributes have dubbed us "The Career Pack", which seems like an appropriate name to me. A few of my allies find the title irritating, though, the tributes from 2 especially.

I realize I've been lost in my thoughts, and tune back in to the countdown. It's already gone past the twenty-second mark, which gives me less than twenty seconds to find a weapon. I squint as I scan the Cornucopia for knives, my specialty in battle. It's hard to see anything under the water's surface, though. Before I know it, the gong rings out. I'm out of time.

I kick off my pedestal and land in the shallow water with a splash. I start running immediately, though it's hard to move quickly through the water without tripping over. Being tall does have its advantages, though. I make it to the Cornucopia before anyone else.

I fall to my knees and plunge my arms into the murky water, searching blindly for a weapon. My hand closes around the strap of a backpack, and I yank it free from the mud. I open the zipper and sort through the pack's contents. The moment I find a short knife among the soggy supplies, I hear a splash behind me. I whirl around to face my grinning district partner, dragging a tribute through the water by his ankle.

"District Twelve," says Pike, dropping the tribute's foot, "Thought you might want to have him." Pike's terrified prisoner scrambles to his feet and starts to hurry clumsily through the water.

My knife hits the middle of his back, and I've made my first kill. I bite my lip to keep from flinching as I watch him sink to his knees. I've trained for this. I've signed up for this. There's no going back. I turn around to thank Pike, but my ghost of a district partner has vanished again.

"Agh!" Someone slams into me at top speed, and we both fall into the water. Unable to see anything in the cloudy water, I lash out, hoping to get in a good hit. A boot smashes into my face, and my mouth is filled with the metallic taste of blood. I gasp for air when I reach the surface of the shallow water. The tribute I was grappling with is still under. I grab them by the shoulders and hold them down as they struggle.

Something floats to the surface of the water, and I free one of my hands to take it. It's another knife, this one thinner, with a curved blade. Obviously meant for a fight, rather than for survival purposes. Its wooden handle must be hollow, because it was floating on the surface like a bobber.

The flailing arms and legs of the tribute underneath me have begun to slow as my captive runs out of air. I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and turn around just in time to catch sight of a small, dark-haired tribute as she flees the battle.

It's the girl from 8. And she's escaping.

I leap to my feet, not bothering to finish off the tribute I was drowning, and sprint as fast as I can in her direction. The girl staggers gracelessly through the water, nearly making it to the edge of the trees before I tackle her.

_Splash!_ We fall into the water. She doesn't put up much of a fight; I pin her against a tree by her shoulders in a matter of seconds. She lets out a whimper, struggling futilely to free herself. This is it.

However badly I want to kill her, I can immediately notice the differences between this girl and Julius's killer. She's younger, thirteen or fourteen years old. Though the Hunger Games have only begun, she looks starving already, with hollow cheeks and arms as skinny as twigs. Her wide brown eyes stare up at me in fear.

Brown eyes, not green.

It all comes crashing down on me at once. That I knew from the beginning I had the wrong tribute. That somehow, I had convinced myself otherwise. Killing this girl won't bring Julius back to life. It won't even avenge his death.

"Delta!" calls the girl from District 1, "Come on!" The bloodbath has ended. I look back at the girl I have trapped. Innocent or not, I can't let her go.

When I kill her, it isn't for vengeance.

FATE: Delta went on to win the 12th Hunger Games. The tribute she fought in the finale was the same one she almost succeeded in drowning, the girl from District 5. Years after she won the Games, she still felt guilty for killing the girl from 8 in the bloodbath.

**Well, that was depressing. But I hope you liked it anyway! Delta is one of my favorite characters to write, even though she's definitely a Career in the best and worst of times. I could really use some feedback on this one, can you review? :)**


	13. The Singer (Amarelle)

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews! :D I thought I ought to write one that had some mockingjays in it :) It's slightly depressing—I've been writing a lot of sad and violent things lately and I don't know why! Oh, well. I know for a fact that the next chapter is a happy one! I hope you enjoy, and as always, please review!**

**Sorry for any confusion, this chapter wouldn't show up when I posted it earlier...**

Amarelle

District 9

_"Shooting star, cross the night,_

_Your first and final flight._

_Cut through the sky, sharp as a knife_

_And make sure your wish is worth a life."_

The last words of the song come out as a whisper. The song itself is ancient. My sisters and I would sing it when we had to work in the fields after dark. But our parents had forbid both the lyrics and the tune. I was too young then to understand why. As I got older, I never asked.

I hadn't heard the melody in a long time. It reminds me of home. The most notable characteristic of 9 is it's low-lying grain fields. Nothing even close in resemblance to the ominous pine forest of my arena, where Career tributes could be hiding anywhere, ready to end your life without a second thought.

But I don't care. I want to go home. I sing louder.

_"Shooting star, cross the night,_

_Your first and final flight._

_Cut through the sky, sharp as a knife_

_And make sure your wish is worth a life."_

For a moment, all is silent. Then the birds begin to sing out the different notes of my song. The tunes echo and overlap, creating an eerie, beautiful melody. My sister once told me about these birds; about the mockingjays. They can repeat a variety of sounds, just as their ancestors could. Although the mockingbirds were merely songbirds, and the jabberjays were bred for war.

Another bird joins the chorus, and I can tell it's different immediately. This one stands out from the others; it can pronounce the words of the song. It must be a jabberjay. They're direct creations of the Capitol, and can repeat words as well as sounds. I've never heard of one singing before, so I repeat the song.

_"Shooting star, cross the night,_

_Your first and final flight._

_Cut through the sky, sharp as a knife_

_And make sure your wish is worth a life."_

"Shooting star, cross the night," sings the bird in a soft voice. I turn around, trying to catch sight of it.

"Your first and final flight." Its voice has grown louder, so I must be getting closer. Suddenly, I hear the crunch of a boot and whirl around. I'm being watched. Someone else is here.

"Cut through the sky, sharp as a knife," croons the jabberjay.

"Hello?" I ask, my voice wavering. Strong arms grab me from behind, pressing the cool metal of a blade to my throat. I gasp and turn my head a fraction of an inch to see the smirking girl from District 2. She opens her mouth and sings in the same soft voice.

"And make sure your wish it worth a life."

FATE: District 9 did not have a victor this year, but neither did District 2.

**Okay, I promise the next one won't be depressing! :) Can I get a review, maybe?**


	14. The Observer (Orchid)

**Will you forgive me for taking so long to update Chapter eleven? XS I promise I won't forget about this story anymore :)**

Orchid

District 5

I've always had a certain fascination with the world around me. People have told me before that I am very observant, and I am. I see things no one else bothers to. Maybe it's to make up for my lack of hearing.

If I close my eyes and stay absolutely still, I can make the world around me disappear almost effortlessly. I try this now, leaning against a tree and taking a last look at the world as my eyes close. It's dark as night in the new world I've created for myself, and absolutely silent. It's kind of nice there, but it can't last forever. I'll have to leave eventually.

I open my eyes and blink a few times, readjusting to the bright sunlight. Something moves, in the distance. Shifts a low-hanging tree branch and sends leaves flying every which way. I tense, going into a defensive position and holding up my small knife at a threatening angle.

A mutt would have attacked me by now. Maybe, rather than something, it's someone. The toe of a boot and a bit of dark hair confirms my suspicions. I debate whether or not to call out to them. But still, they may not have noticed me.

Suddenly, the tribute steps out into the open. I exhale a sigh of relief when I don't recognize him as a Career. It's one of the boys from the outer districts, standing tall and lean, with an untidy haircut and eyes of an indefinite color. I can't tell from this far away. His mouth moves, and I realize he must have been calling out to me from behind the bushes. Whoops.

I wave to tell him I can see him. He gives me an incredulous look as he walks a little closer. His eyes, which are the same hazel color as my own, travel to the knife in my hand. He is weaponless, as far as I can tell, but I don't want to take chances. I shake my head.

"Don't you talk?" I read the words on his lips and nod.

"Yeah, I do."

"You have a weird way of speaking," he says bluntly, "Can you hear?"

"No." I say. He's observant, too.

"But you can read lips, at least." I nod.

"What's your name?" I ask him. He says his name, a word I've never head before. It's easy enough to guess how it's pronounced, though.

"Cameron?" He nods. I spell it out in hand signals as he watches. I learned the signals back in District 5. He seems interested in this, so I start to teach him how to spell with his hands.

"How about you?" he asks. I spell it out a few times for him.

"Orchid?" he guesses. He's a quick learner.

"Orchid," I confirm with a nod.

"Pretty name," he says.

"Thank you," I reply, and then spell out his name again. Cameron smiles. I spell another word for him, once he doesn't quite understand.

"Allies?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says, nodding, "Let's be allies."

FATE: Orchid did not go on to win the Hunger Games, but Cameron did, resulting in District Ten's first victory in the arena.

**Hope you liked it! Please review!**


	15. The Reasoner (Arbor)

**Thank you to everyone for the wonderful reviews! And also thank you to Shane Donaldson (Did I get your name right?) And Carmen for reviewing, even though I can't reply to them by PM!**

**To Carmen: (Ch 3) Thank you! (Ch 4) Thanks! Sunny was a bit pushy because she was upset that the Careers wouldn't accept her as part of the pack. She's a bit of a princess, too. She didn't know what she was getting into when she volunteered! (Ch 8) Because the idea just popped into my head one day. And it was really fun to write, too! I liked writing Claude and Margaret, I think I'll write more about them someday. :) (Ch 9) Thank you! I've always been really interested in names :) (Ch 12) Thanks! It was one of my favorites to write :) (Ch 14) How so?**

Arbor

District 11

My ally and I wake up to the last thing we want in our campsite. Another tribute. A Career, by the looks of it. From up in our tree, I see his fiery hair and immediately identify him as the boy from District 1. But we've gotten lucky; he's lying facedown on the ground, motionless. As far as I can see, he's weaponless, too. I don't know how we both could have slept through a Career fight, but they must have been here. Probably killed him quickly and took his supplies when they left.

Xanthe drops down from the tree, landing lightly on her feet. I watch from my branch, trying to seem nonchalant. It's my trick for the cameras, acting casual. Like the Games are nothing but—well, games. Since the bloodbath, when my district partner was killed, the only tribute who knew my true views on the Games was Xanthe, who is still alive and intends to stay that way. She could make it out; I'm sure of it. Xanthe may not be the strongest tribute in the arena, or the best fighter, but no one should ever underestimate the damage sheer brainpower can do. I'm trying not to think about what would happen if we were the last two alive.

My ally kneels beside the boy from 1 and holds two fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. I stay up in the tree, instead turning my attention to a brightly colored bird perched on another branch. It has vivid purple feathers, a curved beak, and beady eyes. I find myself wondering why it's staring at me.

"He's alive!" Xanthe calls up. Surprised, I look away from the bird, swinging my legs over the edge of the branch and starting to climb down from the tree. When I reach the bottom, I stand beside Xanthe and look at the boy. Sure enough, he's begun to stir. His breathing has quickened, as if he's having a nightmare. I poke his shoulder with the toe of my boot.

The next thing I know, I'm on my back. There's a weapon pointed at me; it takes a minute to realize it's my own knife. The boy from 1 stands over me, looking more confused than anything else. How did he do that?

Xanthe has stumbled backwards in surprise; grabbed a branch to catch herself before she fell. She watches us, frozen, still clinging to the tree branch. I stare at my knife, then up at the tribute holding it. From far away, the boy's height made him seem older; more intimidating. This is the first time I've gotten a proper look at the boy from 1, and he has to be younger than me. Much younger. Fourteen, maybe fifteen. His eyes dart quickly from me to Xanthe, and his hand is shaking. In all, he looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"We aren't going to hurt you," I say immediately. I can almost hear the laughter from the Capitol audience as they watch me, threatened with my own knife, try to reassure the Career about to kill me.

"Y-yeah?" the boy stammers, "I'm not the one who should be w-worried." Xanthe shoots me a panicked glance. I get to my feet slowly, confident the boy won't strike.

"How about giving me my knife back, kid?" I hold out my hand. The Career stares at it incredulously. It's hard to tell whether he thinks I'm going to hit him, or if he'd like to chop off my arm. He doesn't return my weapon. I glance over to Xanthe, who unsheathes her dagger and tosses it to me. I catch it by the handle and look back to the boy from District 1.

"How'd you end up a volunteer?" The Career seems taken aback by my question.

"I wanted to volunteer," he replies. He doesn't lower my knife, not by a fraction of an inch, but he doesn't strike, either. I try to remember his name. I've definitely heard it. During the reaping recap, around the Training Center. It's one of those absurd names unique to District 1. It's can't be Garland…Is it Glam? Or Gold? Gold! That must be it.

"You're still young," I say, "What made you think you could win?"

"I'm ready." Gold hasn't let his guard down. He's cynical.

"I don't know. If I were you, I'd have waited until I was older. If I could fight like you at…fifteen?" I guess.

"Fourteen," says Gold.

"Fourteen," I echo, "If I could fight like you at fourteen, I'd train those four extra years; really be prepared."

"Too late now."

"What's your name?"

"Gild." Well, I was close.

"I'm Arbor," I introduce myself, "District Eleven. This is Xanthe, from Three." I nod towards my ally.

"Are you on your own?" I ask. Gild hesitates.

"Yeah."

"But the pack's still together, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are."

"Weren't you with them?" I ask.

"I _was_," he says, a trace of bitterness in his voice. Well, that would explain why Gild is willingly giving me this information. The other Careers must have discovered his reluctance to kill, kicked him out early.

"You're a good fighter, for a fourteen-year-old," says Xanthe, "Interested in a new alliance?" Gild looks surprised. He should've guessed this was where the conversation was heading. It's not like we would have wasted time with introductions if we were going to kill him.

"Okay."

"We're allies, then." I say.

"What now?" asks Gild. There's a new expression on his face. Relief?

"Now…" I can't stop the corners of my mouth from turning up in a grin. "You'll give me back my knife, and we'll find you a weapon of your own."

FATE: Xanthe dies in a muttation attack a week later, and Arbor and Gild go their separate ways. In the end, they are the two remaining tributes. Gild is fatally injured, and Arbor ends his suffering by slitting his throat. District 11 gains a victor this year.

**Please review! Next chapter: Helix, the boy from Five, is accepted into the Career pack.**


	16. The Tracker (Helix)

**Hey everyone! I'm writing this message during lunch at school! I've been waiting to write Helix's chapter for a while, because he's awesome like that, and I'm already RPing as him on a forum! So he needs a chapter, of course! Please, no homophobes.**

Helix

District 5

The McCarron family is impartial to the Hunger Games. If the Capitol didn't put us in the arena, we wouldn't be troubled by them. I _hated_ that. I don't want to watch someone's children die. Especially if I have to pretend everything's fine, just because I'm not in there with them. The Games are sick; someone's twisted idea of entertainment-meets-revenge. They aren't right, but my family refuses to believe that.

My older brother puts up with my parents' reasoning. Merak can stand being around them; as long as he's leaving the house in a year. He ignores me completely. But I don't mind so much. I'm not worried about Merak. I have a little sister, Kastra, who's five. Even if she watches me die in the arena, my parents will find a way to convince her I never existed. And she'll learn the same things Merak and I were supposed to.

Kastra was the first one to know that I'm gay. The reason for this is that, even at age five, she's wise beyond her years. I didn't tell Merak directly, though he probably wouldn't have cared. With the amount of time he spends out of the house, I doubt he realizes he has two younger siblings. But my parents; I made the wrong decision in telling them. They didn't have to pay attention to me. At least, before, they didn't tune me out completely. Have they disowned me? They can't have; I still live under their roof. But most days, it feels like I'm not even there. Ignored. Disregarded. Invisible. Against my will, I've disappeared from the McCarron family.

"Hello!" shouts Brilliance, the obnoxious girl from District 1, "Five! Wake up!"

"I'm awake," I mutter, adjusting my backpack and lengthening my strides to keep up with the Careers. Excluding me, there are only four Career tributes left. The girl from 4 and the boy from 1 were both killed off early this year. That leaves:

A. Brilliance, my least favorite.

B. Wade, the boy from 4, who has an indifferent attitude. He reminds me of Merak, only twice as large and trained to murder.

C. Cassius, the boy from District 2, who became the leader of the alliance when the boy from 1 was killed. He's good-looking—you can tell that, even through his scowl—and he knows it, too.

D. Lynch, the girl from 2. She's also the only one in the Career pack that I trust, and the reason I'm in this alliance in the first place.

I have to leave before the Career pack splits up. It usually ends in a fight. And right now, the odds are not in my favor.

Wade and Cassius are currently arguing about the number of remaining tributes, with Lynch and Brilliance listening intently.

"I heard the cannon, I swear!" exclaims Cassius, looking annoyed.

"It was thunder," says Wade, "We couldn't have heard anything in that storm." Lynch eventually gets bored with their fight, and falls behind so she can talk to me.

"Hey," she greets me.

"Hi."

"When do you think they'll get tired of arguing?" she asks, looking over to Wade and Cassius.

"You think they'll get tired of arguing?" I ask with a look of mock-surprise. Lynch laughs.

"I guess you're right," she says.

"Five!" shouts Cassius, and I look up quickly. "Get over here!" When I join him at the front of the group, he points down at the ground.

"Go on," he says.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask. Cassius scowls.

"Why are you here in the first place?" he asks, then answers the question himself, "To track." He points at the ground again. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"Not all traces are on the ground," I say quietly, but Cassius doesn't hear me. I walk past the Careers to examine a large tangle of bushes a few meters away. Sure enough, a shred offabric is caught in the thorns.

"This way," I say, pointing. The Careers run ahead.

"How'd you see it?" asks Lynch. I shrug.

"I guess I just knew where to look."

"It's cool," she says, just like she did on the second day of training, when we met at the tracking station.

"Thanks," I say with a false smile. Right now, my tracking skill is the only thing keeping me alive. Very cool.

"Oi! Stop flirting with my district partner and do what you're supposed to!" Cassius yells. Flirting! I scowl and come back over. Cassius is grinning. He seems pretty pleased with himself for coming up with that one. I scan the clearing in front of us, searching for evidence that a tribute was here.

I see it. A bright streak of blood stains the bark of a tree a vivid crimson; it hasn't dried yet, or it would be the color of rust. Someone's been here recently. They're injured. Most likely not fatally, but maybe enough to slow them down a bit. If we kept going, we'd probably be able to catch up with them…

"Nothing," I say, turning back around, "There's nothing here." I'm a terrible liar. I hold my breath, waiting for them to call me out.

"Some tracker you are," says Brilliance. I don't respond. The Careers start walking in the other direction, and I exhale a sigh of relief. I might have just saved someone's life. It might come back to bite me later, but what chance did I ever have at winning the Games, anyway? Lynch looks back at me.

"Coming?" Lynch has always acted like a friend. I've ignored the fact that, just like her allies, she's been holding a weapon the entire time. I have to be more careful, especially now that I'm a traitor.

I wonder what my parents would think of me now.

FATE: There were a few more events like this during tribute hunts; Helix leading his allies on a wild goose chase. A few days later, Cassius figured out that the boy from 5 was misleading them, and killed him on the spot. Helix didn't make it home, but another middle-district tribute, the boy from District 7, did. He was the injured tribute Helix saved the first time he deceived the Careers.

**Did I do OK? Write me a review, maybe? :D Next chapter: The crippled girl from District 3 in the bloodbath of the 17****th**** annual Hunger Games.**


	17. The Cripple (Gage)

**Meet Gage Grayson. :) She's a famously unlucky person, but she does use it as an excuse to be horrible to people… If you've already met Gage on the forum, this will explain more of her backstory and all that :) I did have to cut part off, though, because I wanted to end it on a more exciting note :) Hope you enjoy, because it was fun writing as her!**

The 17th Hunger Games

Gage

District 3

_60…59…58…_

My heart is racing. Twenty-four tributes, and I'm the only one who has to stare at the arena and face the fact that I won't be alive tomorrow. Just me. Because I know for sure that I don't have a chance. My death is imminent.

The worst part is that I can't let anyone know. I miss being little. If I was told something bad was going to happen, I could scream and cry and kick all I wanted. Have a chance to calm down, get my thoughts together enough to move on with my life. But now, practically staring death in the face, I have to be strong. The other tributes are going to live longer than me; I can't give them the satisfaction of knowing that I'm sure I'll die today.

And how could I let my family know that? We're broken enough as it is. The austere mayor of District 3, his hysterical wife, dead son, and crippled daughter. And it wasn't just the car accident. That was most of it, though. Honestly. The only family in 3 who can afford to ride in a car, and it gets wrapped around a tree. Mom goes out of her mind, Fil dies, and I wake up at home with a twisted, unusable leg. And here I am now. Teetering unstably on top of my pedestal, feeling out of balance without crutches on either side of me. Waiting for the seventeenth annual Hunger Games to begin.

_22…21…20…_

Twenty seconds. I take a quick look around the arena. A pine forest to one side, a seemingly infinite field of long grass to the other side. If I had any chance of making it out of the bloodbath, I'd probably head for the grass. I used to be the fastest runner in my class. I could have made it.

I can't help but wonder if this still would have happened to me if I had tried to be kinder after the accident. It would have been hard; most of the people I knew started to avoid me. But yet, Fil always joked that Graysons never went down without a fight. My brother was gone, but…Maybe I cold have attempted to make a new friend? Maybe I wouldn't have ended up here…

I hate karma.

_11…10…9…_

Nine seconds. My hands clench into fists at my sides with the effort of keeping a untroubled expression.

_Keep your eyes down, Gage. Like you're searching for a weapon._

I scan the ground in front of the Cornucopia and spot a knife. That's the knife I would have gone for. I would have snatched it up and escaped into the long grass before most of the tributes had made it halfway to the golden horn. I try not to grimace as I think that I'm unable to put my only game plan into action.

_3…2…1…_

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the seventeenth annual Hunger Games begin!"

The gong rings through my ears, but I don't move. My heart is beating so fast I feel like it's going to fly out of my chest.

_Go!_ The word comes at me from out of nowhere. The odds are stacked against me, and I can't think of any advantages I hold over the other tributes. But I have to at least make an effort to survive. I can't give up. I'm a Grayson.

_Graysons never go down without a fight._

I jump off my pedestal.

FATE: Though she tried to escape, Gage was unable to get away fast enough. She died in the bloodbath of the 17th Hunger Games, killed by the boy from 1.

**I'd tell you what the next chapter was about, but I don't really know yet :)**


	18. The Protector (Bastian)

**Wow! It's been a while since I posted Gage's chapter, hasn't it? Sorry, guys…I've been super busy with school. :/ I don't really have so much to say this time, besides: Thank you so much, everyone who reviewed!**

**So, here is chapter 18! Yes, inspired by the frozen lake scene in Rise of The Guardians J A great movie, for anyone who hasn't seen it! OK, I'm really done now! XD**

18th Hunger Games

Bastian

District 12

"You stay behind me. Don't step unless you know it's safe." I warn my allies, even though I know they won't move. I don't want to go forward, either. All three of us are hesitating.

The cold wind stings my face as I stare out at the wide expanse of ice that covers the lake. Silas peers over my arm, his brown eyes wide in fear. Cecily is standing behind him. Even in her heavy coat, she's shivering.

_Screech!_ We hear the sound again, a warped, high-pitched wailing. Both of my allies look petrified.

"Hey, it's all right," I tell them, in an attempt to make it seem like nothing is wrong. "Let's go. We can do this, easy."

They're twelve, both of them. Silas is from District 9, and Cecily's from 5. I found them on day two. I wish I could say that I saved them from the Careers, or maybe from a muttation attack, but I didn't. They're bright kids, and they were doing fairly well on their own. But "fairly well" doesn't win you the Hunger Games. And if there's one thing I'm going to do in the arena, it's make sure these kids have a chance. They remind me a little of my younger siblings.

_Screech!_ We have to cross the lake, or whatever is making that noise is going to come for us.

"C'mon," I say, "And be careful." I tentatively place my foot on the ice. To my relief, nothing happens. I take another step. And another. Slowly, but surely, I start to make my way across. Silas follows me out.

"Cecily, we have to go." Cecily remains—almost literally—frozen on the spot. She shakes her head.

"I-I can't do it," she says through chattering teeth.

"Yes, you can. You're the lightest of all of us. You're going to be fine. Okay?" Cecily stays put.

"Wh-what if the ice breaks?"

_Screech!_ It's closer now. Much closer. Cecily, with a new motivation to leave, yelps and hops onto the ice. I brace myself for the collapse, but it never comes. I give her a nod of encouragement, and she gingerly takes a step towards Silas and I. Soon enough, she's right behind us. It's safe to keep going.

I always test the ice before putting my entire weight on it. The thin barrier is the only thing that separates us from the freezing lake. It no longer matters what kinds of muttations could live under the surface. The water alone could kill us in a matter of minutes.

_Crack!_ I hear the sound I've been dreading. I look down and see a web of fractures in the ice, creeping from under my boot.

"Bastian…"

"It's okay. We're going to be okay. We just have to keep going." I carefully place my foot somewhere else—to my relief, the ice doesn't start to give way again—and motion for my allies to follow me.

_Crack!_

"Silas!" I whirl around at the sound of Cecily's scream, just in time to see Silas fall through the ice. Immediately he takes hold of the edge, scrambling to get up again. I grab his arms and pull him out of the water as quick as I can manage.

"I-I'm o-okay." He was only in the water for a few seconds, but he's shaking like a leaf. After a minute, he wants to get back on his feet. He needs the support of both Cecily and I in order to attempt walking. Even then, it's very slow going. But we've almost made it. I can see the other side of the lake growing nearer with each step.

_Crack!_ It happens more abruptly this time, and feels like an earthquake under our feet. This time, it isn't natural. The ice shoots apart, knocking us all off our feet. And then we're isolated, on a large chunk of ice in the middle of it all. There's no hope of escape in the other shattered pieces, floating on the surface of the water that surrounds us. Silas starts to say something, but he's drowned out in the cracking of separating ice. Because in the next second, our island of ice splits down the middle.

"Bastian!" shouts Cecily as the pieces come apart. I reach out to grab her hand, but it's too late. My little allies are drifting farther away by the second. Silas grabs the back of Cecily's coat as she leans forward.

"You're g-going to flip us over!" he says, trying to balance their piece of ice. It's over. With the freezing water, strong wind, and rapidly increasing distance between us, there's no way I'll be able to get back to them now.

"Just keep moving!" I yell above the wind, "Go! Get to the other side!" I see Silas nod, and take off his backpack. He submerges it halfway into the water and uses it as a makeshift paddle. It's not the ideal tool for rowing, but so far, it's working. Without the backpack our alliance shared or any of its contents, the only thing I can do now is wait.

A few minutes later, Silas and Cecily are no longer in sight. But what I do see is land. And I'm back where I started.

_Screech!_

FATE: Neither Bastian, Silas, nor Cecily won the 18th Hunger Games. But fortunately, Bastian's younger siblings back in District 12 were never reaped for the Games.

**Next chapter: Specter, the boy from Six, goes hunting with his ally.**


	19. The Loyal (Specter)

**Well, here I am with another super-long author's note… Because with your wonderful feedback and comments, this story has reached one hundred reviews! Thank you so, so, so much! You all have helped me to reach my ultimate goal of fanfiction, and I am forever grateful to you all for helping me to grow as a writer and also for writing me reviews that made me smile :) Special thanks to HogwartsDreamer113, for being my 100****th**** reviewer! She has some AMAZING stories, please check them out when you can! :D And also thanks to Guest and Bookloverforever, because I can't reply to them and I really appreciated their kind reviews! **

19th Hunger Games

Specter

District 6

"I'll take hunting today," says Via. "You take a look at the plants, see if you can find something edible."

"Okay," I tell my district partner. "Stay safe." She nods and gives me a fleeting smile before disappearing into the trees.

After a few minutes of hiking—and no luck discovering any plant that's safe to eat—I find a tree. Round, purple fruits that resemble plums weigh down its thorny branches. This looks perfect. I rack my brain, trying to remember if I've heard anything unfavorable about it during training. I spent a long time at the plant identification station on the first day, knowing I'd need to be aware of the arena's vegetation. Thorny stems, jagged leaves, purple fruits. This one is harmless. The plant I need to watch out for is as smooth and glossy as plastic.

I take out my pocketknife and cut one of the prickly stems. Slowly—the branches are thick and challenging to cut with my dull blade—I fill the empty space in my backpack. It used to be occupied by my bedroll. But that, along with all of Via's supplies from the Cornucopia, was destroyed in a forest fire the Gamemakers created a few days ago. I sling my now-heavy pack over my shoulder and start walking again.

I get back to our campsite after a relatively short hike. It's easier to make the trip when you aren't scrutinizing every bush you see along the way. Via hasn't gotten back yet, so I decide to slice up one of the fruits and eat it while I wait for her. There are plenty to spare.

Something slips out of my jacket pocket as I take out my knife. I fumble to catch it before it hits the ground. My token, a beat-up compass, is the only thing I have to remind me of District 6. The Gamemakers, naturally, were against the idea of me possessing any item that could potentially help me win the Games. So they damaged it beyond repair before they returned it to me the night before the Games. The glass is shattered; the needle is bent nearly to a right angle. What would my uncle think?

_"Specter," said Uncle Mack. I looked up, trying to blink away tears. I couldn't cry. Not now, during my final goodbye. Babies cried. Toddlers cried. Although, how could I compare myself like that when I was being sent away to the Hunger Games? My death was imminent._

_"Don't lose hope."_

_"It's too late," I told him, "I can't do this… I can't make it back." I lowered my voice. "Not alive."_

_"You can't talk like that. If you say you can't, you won't try."_

_"That's not true." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Uncle Mack raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on his lips._

_"I've got something for you. They let you take one thing into the arena, something that reminds you of home." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small metal disk with a glass covering. A compass._

_"Even though I know you can find your way on your own," he said._

_"Thank you." Those two words could never express my gratitude. The best memories I had were with him in the curio shop. He taught me, with every old trinket and bauble that came into his possession, that you could find beauty even in places like District 6. You just needed to know where to look. It may have sounded corny then, but it proved to be a useful lesson._

_"And I know you don't want to hear it," he continued, "But I'm proud of you. Of everything that you've done. And no matter what happens in the Capitol or in the arena, I'm still going to be proud." There's a long silence between us. Then, I throw my arms around my uncle._

_"I'm coming home."_

A terrible, agonized scream shatters the silence, jolting me out of my thoughts. And I recognize it immediately.

"Via!" I'm back on my feet, racing towards the sound of my ally's voice. Branches try to claw out my eyes—for once, I am grateful for my thick glasses—scratching at my face as I run through the trees.

"Via!" I stumble into a clearing, crashing through the brush like a runaway train. Three pairs of eyes, all gleaming with malice, immediately train on me. The Careers. A fourth tribute lies on the ground in a gruesome pool of blood. I don't have to look twice to know that she's my ally. In utter horror, I choke out her name, but her cannon drowns out my voice.

There are a few laughs. One of the Careers, a female with sharp, catlike features, smirks and takes a step in my direction. I should run. I need to run.

_Why aren't you running away?! Run, you idiot! RUN NOW!_

The moment I start to turn; to sprint back into the trees, her hand shoots out and grabs me by the shoulder. Her other fist crashes into my head, and stars swirl across my vision. Before I know it, I'm looking up at the sky.

Suddenly, her face comes into focus. The girl from District 1. I feel the weight on my shoulders and know I'm being held down. There is no escape.

"Ready to die?" She thinks she's clever. The line itself sounds like something out of a Capitol-made television drama. I've encountered quite a few, as the District 6 escort has a particular fondness for them. I don't respond to the girl.

"I thought so." She takes my silence as surrender and smiles down at me, drawing her knife from her belt. I am not afraid of her. I've never been scared of bullies, armed or not. The cool metal of the knife brushes my face. The pressure slowly increases, and then comes the pain. I clench my teeth together, trying not to cry out. My eyes flicker from Career to Career, and then back to the girl from 1. The pain is almost blinding. I try to focus on her eyes, which are a venomous green. They're narrowed in concentration as she cuts at me. She notices me glaring. But I will never look away. I will stare down my killer until the end.

FATE: Specter's ending is among the worst of the fallen tributes. The girl from 1 took her time, torturing him until he finally had lost too much blood. A week later, Specter's uncle was caught and killed by the Peacekeepers, for possession of morphling and illegal weaponry. Specter had known. Before he was reaped, he had practiced weekly in the back of his uncle's shop and become skilled with a knife. His uncle had been like a father to him, since his own father had been killed in an accident when Specter was young.

**Poor Specter :( He's one of my favorite characters to write as, though! I'm planning on giving him a chapter in my other fanfiction, Rollercoaster, sometime in the future! Anyway, thanks for reading! I'd really appreciate a review or two for this one! :)**


	20. The Hematophobe (Acacia)

**I want to thank Jake because of one of the kindest reviews I've ever read :) Thank you so much! You're the reason I'm not procrastinating on updating! :)**

**And a message for everyone, I know you all wanted another District 7 victor, and trust me, there will be more of them XD But this one is because I haven't written a D7 chapter yet, and Acacia is also the name of a type of tree. So it worked out :) But trust me when I say that there's a few victors in the future. One of them is Blight, one is Johanna, and I'm also doing one for an OC of mine named Lucan. I'm sorry, and please bear with me for a moment while I get these chapters planned out! XD**

20th Games

Acacia

District 7

_Six years old. I stare up at my homemade kite, tangled in the branches of a tall oak tree._

"_What now?" I ask with a sigh. My older brother turns to me and grins._

"_I can get it," he tells me, and grabs hold of one of the lowest branches. As he pulls himself higher into the tree, I start to worry._

"_Come down, Robin!" I call up to him._

"_I'm fine, Cace, I'm almost there!" he assures me, reaching up for another branch. As soon as he shifts his weight on the limb, it gives way underneath him. I scream as Robin plummets from the tree, landing on an old stump with a sickening crack._

"_Robin!" I shriek. My brother doesn't answer me. Doesn't jump up to tell me he's kidding. Just lies there, and…and bleeds._

_I drop to my knees next to my brother. His whole body is bent at an awkward angle. The jagged bark of the stump has cut deep into his side, and blood has started to pour from his wound._

"_Robin!" I yell, "Wake up! ROBIN!" Robin remains motionless, but the blood keeps coming. Drips onto my hands and arms as I try to shake him awake. Stains a dark crimson color over everything it encounters._

* * *

The sounds of the battle fade further and further away as I stagger through the trees. I clutch my stomach, gasping for air. Another stab of pain, and a sob catches in my throat.

_Don't look down._

It was moments ago that the girl from 8 swung her axe, but I know there's blood. Welling up from the wound in my stomach, dripping onto the ground beneath my feet. Just the feel of it, slick over my hands, is enough to make me lightheaded. Or maybe it's because I've already lost so much of it my vision is starting to blur.

I stumble over another root. And another. But I keep my head tilted to the sky.

_Don't look down._

Sticky, scarlet blood. I'm probably covered in it. Just like Robin had been. Blood means death. I have to stop thinking about it.

_Don't look down._

Somebody is following me. I can hear the faint sound of footsteps behind me. I try to lengthen my strides, run just a little harder. The agonizing pain in my stomach quickly grows worse.

_Don't look down!_

I keep running, my head starting to spin. Suddenly, I'm no longer traveling in a straight line. The heavy footfalls are getting louder. I have to keep going.

_Don't look down. Don't look down._

I push myself further and further until the footsteps have faded out completely. I did it. I've lost them. And now, I really am all alone. Without my family. Without my mentor. Without my ally. When I remember my district partner, blown to bits before the Games even began, the tears start again. I bite my lip.

"Stop it…" I whisper. I'm hoping the microphones won't pick it up. It's all in vain, though, because the arena is absolutely silent. Everything I say and do will be easily broadcasted to everyone in Panem.

I hear a rustle from behind me, and turn around to face a tree. There are many trees in this arena, of course, but this particular one has a silver parachute caught in its branches. And the gift is for _me_.

I try desperately to ignore the pain as I reach up and untangle my sponsor gift. Once I get it free from its parachute, I realize it's a thin metal box, just big enough to fit nicely in the palm of my hand.

I open the top, staring inside to distract myself from the red substance covering my trembling hands. A wave of horror washes over me when I see that the box only contains two items. A shining silver needle and a small spool of thread. My mentor wants me to stitch up my own cut.

"N-no," I squeak, looking up at the sky to address my mentor, "I-I can't do that!"

But if I don't attempt to heal my injury, I'll die. And before attempting to heal something, I know I need to see what the damage is.

_Don't look down! Don't look down! Don't look down!_

I can't escape it this time. This is the Hunger Games. I have to face my fears. Slowly, I glance down at my stomach.

_Don't look down!_

The gash in my side is deep and messy. It's still bleeding through the ragged flesh. And where the axe hasn't sliced away the fabric of my shirt, the material is bright red, soaked through with blood.

I feel my knees buckle, the world around me coming out of focus. My eyes roll back into my head, and then there's darkness.

Darkness only, but at least it isn't red.

FATE: Acacia did not win the 20th Hunger Games. The tribute who was following her finally found her and took her life.

**Sorry for the short chapter, guys! And it wasn't my best, either. Don't worry, I'll write a better one for Ch 21! Here's a spoiler: Glory, the girl from 1, underestimates a younger tribute and pays dearly…**


	21. The Ailing (Glory)

**Oh. My. God. I just read The Fault In Our Stars, and it had me crying at three in the morning. I think my heart is a little bit shattered, so it's a good time to write Hunger Games fanfiction. So even though the Augustus in this chapter isn't nearly as amazing as Gus Waters, this is a tribute. Yes, to a fictional character. Everyone go read The Fault in Our Stars!**

**I know I've been holding off on the D1s, because I have a TON near the end and you're going to get very sick of my stories about this district XD It's my personal favorite place in Panem, actually. But here is an early chapter about a District 1, hope you enjoy!**

21st Hunger Games

Glory

District 1

He would be small, even if he weren't so underfed. Wherever he came from, he was definitely starving. Hollow cheeks, skinny arms and legs. If I tried, I could probably snap his wrists without much effort. Augustus tells me he's from District 7, and that he's thirteen and a half. How he figured the "half" part out, I'll never know.

The unsteady rise and fall of the boy's chest proves he is alive. He's slumped over to the side, his frail-looking body bent at an uncomfortable angle. But he's alive, and awake, according to his rapid breathing pattern. He looks as exhausted as we are, though. It must be the heat.

"Glory." Augustus interrupts my thoughts.

"What?" I snap at him, surprising myself. Three weeks in this arena, with nothing here except the dry, cracked ground and the endless pale sky, is enough to make anyone irritable. Or drive you insane, depending on your levels of endurance and self-control. It happened to one of our allies. It wasn't very long ago, but it seems like a distant memory. The heat blurs everything together.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"Do it quick this time," my ally tells me, "We need to move on." We've been walking for _days_. Can't he see that soon, there won't be anywhere left to go? But after all the time spent without food, I don't have enough energy to argue with him. I shuffle forward, digging my spear into the ground to keep myself upright.

We're a mess of a Career alliance. We didn't get enough supplies from the Cornucopia to last us a week. Our water ran out yesterday morning. There are only two volunteers alive in an arena of five tributes. We're tired, thirsty, and the heat is making us see things. I drop to my knees. Maybe the boy in front of me is just a heat-induced hallucination. I draw my knife and reach out to poke his shoulder with the blade.

Suddenly, the tribute's eyes snap open. They're an alarming shade of blue, in sharp contrast to his dark hair and skin. In a flash, he grabs me by the wrist and yanks himself to his feet, sending me sprawling onto the ground behind him.

Augustus means to swing his mace at the tribute boy's head, but the arena has weakened him, too. The blunt weapon hits the younger boy in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs.

I struggle to my feet and swing my knife, my vision darkening around the edges. I see the boy's fist a moment before it crashes into my face. Something hard strikes me in the head, sending me to the ground again. I roll once on my way down. Then I'm looking up into the relentless glare of the sun. I turn my head. My eyes can just make out a hazy Augustus, fighting the boy from District 7. I can't move. Why can't I move? I know I'm panicking, but my heartbeat doesn't quicken. My breathing stays the same, slow and shaky.

A cannon goes off.

_Augustus!_ For a terrifying moment, I think the District 7 boy has succeeded in killing my ally. Until his face appears above mine.

"Glory! Glory, can you hear me?" asks Augustus, leaning over me. I want to call out to him, but I'm sinking, lower and lower, traveling farther away from him by the second.

"You can't die! Glory! You can't leave me here!" His face has disappeared, blotted out by shadows. His voice sounds afraid, but I am not afraid. In the darkness, the dull ache in my head disappears. The sharp pains brought on by hunger, and the dryness of thirst in my throat and mouth, have vanished. Even the heat is gone. In the darkness, it's as cool as an autumn day in District 1.

_Boom!_

FATE: Glory did not win the Games, of course. Even if the boy from 7 had not killed her, she would have died from starvation a few days later. Augustus did kill the other tribute boy, and took his supplies. He went on to win the 21st Hunger Games.

**After reading The Fault in Our Stars, I couldn't bear to kill a character whose namesake was Augustus Waters, simply because Gus is so awesome.**


	22. The Sister (Pixel)

**My Spring Break obsessive updating is a little late, but I'll do my best! :)**

**Hailey C: Thanks for reviewing! :) Yep, Titus's Games are already scheduled to be the 42nd Hunger Games! Sorry it's so long, but I have this big list of tributes I use to keep track of the story XD**

22nd Hunger Games

Pixel

District 3

The rocky ledges of the cliff wall dig into my knuckles as I hang on for dear life. I try to find a better handhold, picking out the tiniest dents in the stone to shove my fingers into, to get the best grip I can. A cold, bitter wind sweeps down from the top of the mountain, threatening to knock me into the open air. I press myself against the side of the cliff, hands grasping the jagged rocks as hard as I can without them cutting my palms.

"Pixie!" shouts Bolt from below me, "Pixel! S-slow down!" Only then do I realize how far ahead I've managed to climb. I look down at Bolt; at my little brother, shivering in the icy wind.

"I'm waiting!" I assure him, finding a better foothold for the toe of my right boot, and hanging on tight as Bolt scrambles to climb faster.

"Come on, c'mere." I reach out and grab his jacket sleeve, helping him onto a minute ledge. He flattens himself against the rocks, breathing hard.

"Where are we supposed to go now?" he asks, his teeth chattering. I stare up at the side of the cliff. It looks like the cliff and the ground would probably form an angle less than 90º. Meaning it's slightly steeper than a vertical line. Is there a ledge up there? Can we make it? Gravity will be working against us. But we can't go back, not with the Careers waiting at the bottom. There's only one way to get down this mountain: falling.

And that's not going to happen.

"Up," I tell my brother.

I reach up to lock my fingers around the next handhold, a little piece of stone jutting out from the wall. Bolt is trying his best, but he's still struggling to keep his hold on the rocks. In the next minute, I try not to regain my lead. I can't lose him.

"Just a little farther," I urge him to climb faster. We can't stay precariously balanced on the face of a cliff forever. Sooner or later, we'll tire and fall.

The wind has picked up. It seems like it wants to send us plummeting into the snowy ground. My muscles ache as I climb higher still. We've never had to do anything like this in District 3.

"Bolt! Almost there!" I have to yell over the wind. Bolt nods weakly and pulls himself up. I hook my arm over the top of the ledge, my fingernails digging into the dirt. I look down at my little brother and hold out my hand.

"Here!" In the moment that Bolt lets go with one hand to reach for my outstretched arm, his foothold crumbles beneath him.

"Bolt!" I scream. My voice is lost in the wind.

He's still here. Twenty feet lower, dangling from a shelf by his fingers, but still hanging on. My hand untangles itself from the sparse grass of the ledge, and then I'm climbing back down. The wind shoves me around violently, and I hug the rocks.

"Pixel!" cries Bolt. He's slipping.

"Hang on, Bolt! Hang on tight! I'm coming!" A few more feet, and I can't remember where my foothold should be. No. No! My foot searches the flat wall of rock below me, but I can't find a place to climb down to. I shut my eyes tightly; try to visualize the route I took to get to the top. But there are only so many things a photographic memory can help with. And retracing your steps down the side of a cliff is not one of them. I could never remember a proper picture of my path.

"Reach up!" I yell to Bolt.

"I can't!" There are tears shining on his cheeks. "I'm going to fall!" I choke back a sob.

"Bolt Radley, you listen to me!" I shout, "You're not falling! I won't let you!" I reach down as far as I can without slipping out of my hold on the rock. "Grab my hand!"

For a moment, Bolt just stares up at me. Then, he adjusts his hold on the rocks, a look of determination crossing his face. He frees one arm and raises a shaking hand.

"Almost there!" I say, "Just a little more!" I bite my lip and stretch farther, trying desperately to grab his hand. Bolt's fingers are just out of reach.

A strong wind nearly sweeps us both off the side of the cliff.

"Aah!" Bolt slams his hand back down to keep himself from falling. He slides further down the rock, just managing to keep his handhold.

"Bolt!" I scream. My little brother shoots me a frantic glance, and I make another attempt to get myself lower without losing my grip.

"I'm coming!" I'm crying now. "I'm coming for you, I'm—"

I'm drowned out in an agonized cry as Bolt loses his hold on the rocks.

FATE: Pixel Radley went on to become the victor of the 22nd Hunger Games. She never forgave herself for letting her brother fall.

**Well, that was depressing. But good news! Next chapter is…*drumroll please* MC! For those of you who don't know who MC is (those actually aren't even his initials), he's just this character I've been keeping secret from my friends on the roleplaying forum :) So, chapter spoiler: MC from District 6 takes out the Careers' supplies.**


	23. The Headstrong (Axel)

**The moment you've all (not really) been waiting for. MC is revealed! I hope this chapter isn't disappointing XD**

**To everyone on the forum: Yes, Axel Feynman is Mystery Character. Dang, that would have been one awesome April Fool's joke if he wasn't, right? But as I said before, you guys are better at that then I am XD And my two mystery characters are actually ONE! Surprise? Maybe :) Well, I've kept you guys waiting long enough. Here's the chapter!**

23rd Hunger Games

Axel

District 6

_Thunk!_ My hatchet buries itself in the soft inner bark of the fallen tree. I swing again and again, trying to reduce the tall pine to good-sized pieces. After a few minutes, I straighten up again, wiping away the sweat beaded on my forehead. So far, my arena's defining features include a narrow river, a pine forest, and a temperature that has steadily increased since the beginning of the Games. Soon enough, I'll need to find a shelter with a little shade. I take a sip from my water bottle and get back to work.

_Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!_ I hack away at the wood until the last extra branch breaks free, falling lightly into the dry grass. Then, I stick the handle of my hatchet through my belt loop. This is one of the bigger logs I've had to haul into the river today, but I can manage on my own. I always have. That's one thing the Hunger Games isn't going to change.

My strategy is, essentially, simple. It is to me, anyway. It's not like I expect anyone else to understand. They don't need to. All they have to do is sit back, relax, and watch my idea work out perfectly. I lift one side of the log and start to drag it towards the river.

In about a minute, I reach the bank. I let the wood fall to the ground, allowing myself a moment of rest before I continue. Shading my eyes against the sun, I can see the Careers' camp clearly through the trees. The brain-dead volunteers have piled their supplies into a pyramidal stack. And a few paces away, the river branches off into two separate streams. Three well-placed blockades, and I can force it to overflow. I can wash away their supplies, one of their pack's greatest advantages, forever.

And I can do it by myself, too.

I hop into the riverbed. The wood of my first dam is so tightly packed that the tepid water only goes up to my ankles. I drag the log in after me. It hits the shallow water with a splash. I roll it over and set it in its place, blocking one of the final gaps in the barricade. I fill in the last minor breaches with mud, hoping the makeshift mortar will last until the river drains.

I climb out of the riverbed and sit down by the edge. I would love to watch my plan in action, if the waterline didn't recede so slowly. It's time to find that new shelter…

* * *

When I open my eyes, the sky is growing dark. I must have been more wiped-out than I thought. My face is stinging, probably because I made the mistake of falling asleep under the sun's bright glare. With all the trees in this arena, you'd think there would be better places to shelter yourself. These pines have the flimsiest branches I've ever seen. But there's no time to think about that now. I have to go check on the dam.

The dam. Shoot me now, it's probably running over. I'm off the ground in an instant, nearly tripping over my own feet in my race to the river.

I make it in time. The water is just beginning to trickle over the top of the barricade. Where's my hatchet? After a brief moment of panic, I fumble to undo it from my belt loop. I turn to the Career camp one last time, just to assure myself it's still there; that I'm not wasting my time…

Right. I raise the weapon above my head, gripping its wooden handle tightly. Time to drown their supplies.

_One…Two…Three!_

I bring my hatchet down on the barricade. Immediately, the pile of wood collapses. I'm thrown to the ground, shocked by the force of the water breaking through it. It could have been the impact of my blow, or the increasing pressure of the water on the other side, or even a combination of both. But all I care about now is the surge of water rushing from behind my demolished blockade, barreling straight toward the camp.

This is going to be amazing.

FATE: Axel Feynman succeeded in washing away the Careers' supplies. When the volunteers searched for what was left of their stockpile, they found most of it water-damaged and unusable. Essentially, Axel "drowned" the supplies. This may have been the reason for his victory in the Hunger Games, just over a week later.

**Hope you all enjoyed Mystery Character's chapter!**


	24. The Trapper (Rourk)

**Wow, so sorry this update took as long as it did! I recently started a new story, Everything Has Changed. It's a bunch of Alternate Universes, five different outcomes for the Games from Cato's POV. :) I would love it if some of you reviewed it! I don't usually write about canon characters, and I could really use some feedback on how I'm doing :)**

**Anyway, here's the chapter!**

24th Hunger Games

Rourk

District Twelve

Looking through the rapidly darkening clouds, I see the sun is at its highest point in the sky. I've been watching it carefully. Rather than standing with my allies in the Career pack; I'm staring out at the horizon. Mostly because I don't want to watch the scene playing out behind me.

They've captured a girl. One of the younger ones, with pale blonde hair and frightened green eyes. You can tell she's from an outlying district, maybe 10 or 11, by how skinny she looks. Worse than my siblings and I. I can't understand why they wouldn't kill her immediately. They have enough sponsors; they don't need to put on a show anymore. Why are they doing this?

I hear the Careers snickering and peer over my shoulder. They're binding the poor girl's wrists together with rope. Doric, the boy from 2, stands by, holding his barbed whip, a wide smirk on his face. Though he's not the largest or most intimidating member of the pack—that would go, hands down, to the boy from District 1—he can wield his weapon with alarming force and accuracy. He would have used it on me at the Cornucopia, if he hadn't been distracted as I ran.

I am here because I'm a trapper. Not that they didn't learn all about catching food back in their districts; they made sure to inform me of that. But in this arena, with its constant electric storms and heavy rainfall, it's hard to coax anything edible to walk into your snares. So about a week into the Games, they called in me, someone who's had to depend on this skill to get food on the table back home. Or so they guessed.

They guessed correctly. It was a bit of a victory for me, when they didn't kill me on sight yesterday.

By the time the screaming starts, the sky has clouded over completely. She has a high, piercing voice that chills me to the bone. My immediate response is to clap my hands over my ears and try to block out her agony. It only dulls the edges of the shrill sound.

"Hey!" A muffled voice and a sharp kick to the side make me aware of my surroundings. The blonde girl from District 4—I haven't bothered to learn her name—glares down at me, looking irritated. "Wake up, Twelve."

Slowly, I lower my hands, and the younger girl's screams are amplified. I grimace. Blondie's smile twists into a sneer as she notices my discomfort. She grabs the top of the head and wrenches my neck, forcing me to face the other Careers.

"Watch this," she says. When I see them, I nearly scream myself. The crying girl, who can't be older than thirteen, hands secured to a tree. Her jacket is torn, revealing long gashes plainly inflicted by Doric's whip. The boy from 2 has turned away from his victim, one arm still raised to strike, to laugh at me. Suddenly, a wave of anger washes over me.

"Stop. Just end it." I tell him. The grin drops from his face.

"You're not in District Twelve anymore." With that, he brings down his whip on the poor girl, who screams out in pain as another cut is opened on her body.

"Stop it!" I say again, my voice rising. Blondie from Four gives me another kick.

"Shut up!" she spits. But Doric, surprisingly calm, just holds out the whip in his hand.

"Go ahead," he says, "Take it. _Use_ it." I can only stare at the weapon. In my district, they _did_ use whips, as a punishment for people who break the law. I've seen it wielded by Peacekeepers. Heard the screams of the offenders. I don't want to touch it.

Doric sees my hesitation, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. The little girl's sobs grow louder, more desperate. Maybe she's hoping for an ally to come to her rescue. Or if she doesn't have an ally…

I reach out to take the weapon from the Career. Suddenly, his arm swings back forcefully, and the barbed edge of the whip strikes the young tribute's neck. The cannon blast is nearly lost in a loud crack of thunder as the rain begins to pour down in sheets.

Something inside me snaps, and the connection between the Careers and I is brutally severed. In an instant, I'm on my feet and running down the hill.

By the time I come close to the bottom, the dirt has softened to a slippery mud. Loosing my footing on the wet ground, I fall on my back and slide the rest of the way. I hear their footsteps behind me, uneven slapping against the mud that's out of sync with the artificial sheets of rain. I roll to my stomach and pull myself back to my feet. When I reach the trees, I finally risk a glance over my shoulder. The three Career tributes aren't far behind.

A tree materializes in front of me. I slam into it at full speed, with a loud _crack_ that I assume from the pain is my nose breaking. I hit the ground hard, still trying to catch my breath. Someone laughs.

"Told you."

FATE: Rourk did not become victor of the 24th Hunger Games.

**Poor Rourk… I have some name stories for you, though! If you want to hear where these characters' names came from, just leave a review! :)**

**Next chapter: THE QUELL.**


	25. QUELL: The Chosen (Calico)

**Time for the Quell! This one will probably be shorter than the others, sorry :/**

25th Hunger Games, 1st Quarter Quell

Calico

District Eight

I call myself Callie sometimes. It sounds better to me than my real name, shorter and easier to remember. But I don't have friends to call me that, or much of a family, even. So it's a nickname I gave myself.

They called me Calico at the reaping.

I thought maybe they'd pick someone else. After all, I'd told them I wouldn't hurt anyone, promised them. It was just the one time, when I'd lost control. My classmate, she didn't get hurt too badly. She should have been tougher. My father's hit me like that before, and no one calls him crazy.

I can't believe I thought I was safe.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the twenty-fifth Hunger Games begin!"

I've wasted my time! As soon as I jump off my pedestal, I trip on my oversized leather boots, landing face-first in the dry grass. By the time I scramble to my feet, many of the tributes have already reached the Cornucopia. The golden horn looms ahead of me as I run, looking ominous rather than heartening.

Suddenly, someone slams into me from the side. I automatically lash out with my fist, striking the tribute in the jaw. He yells out in pain and starts to grab for my arm. I jerk away from him and race to the Cornucopia.

_I need supplies_, I think, halting in my tracks. Frantically, I turn around, scanning the field for something of use. I spot a backpack, a few yards away, and sprint for it.

The girl from District 5 gets there first. She gives me a sneer before disappearing into the trees. My fists clench. I try to force myself to turn around, to find another backpack.

But I _can't_ let her go.

I take off running. I can just see the older girl's back in the distance. She's slowed down considerably now, at a jogging pace. And she's wearing the backpack; _my_ backpack.

She doesn't notice me until I jump on her from behind, yanking at the straps of the bag. The girl cries out in surprise. She whirls around, trying to shake me off. While I'm light, I hang on for dear life, wrapping my arms around her neck and squeezing as hard as I can.

After a minute of clawing at my arms with dull fingernails, the older girl collapses. She's still breathing, but only barely. I take the knife from her belt, and the backpack from her shoulders. The sound of footsteps grows louder in the distance. The others have heard our struggle. I look down at the unconscious girl from Five.

She's still breathing, but that can be fixed.

FATE: When the Careers found the girl from Five, she was dead. Calico, despite being one of the youngest tributes at age fourteen, lasted two weeks in the Games before she was killed by the Careers.

**I'll admit that one was rather morbid, especially for a girl my age to be willingly murdering people because they stole her backpack. But Calico is not someone you'd call mentally sound :/ It's the reason she was chosen.**

**Anyway, wow! It's been almost a year, and this story is only 1/3 of the way finished :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please leave a review :D Next one: Whit, the boy from Nine, meets one of the younger tributes.**


	26. The Example (Whitaker)

**Hey, everyone! My friend, finnickandannieforever, has a few amazing fanfictions, and she feels like no one's reading them :( They're really good! Check them out (especially Contained!) if you have the time?**

26th Hunger Games

Whitaker

District 9

One token, the Peacekeeper told me before I entered the hovercraft. He held out his hand to take my bracelet. I almost laughed at his expression when I handed over my eye patch instead. According to my escort, they're all the rage in the city now, ever since my stylist tried to incorporate my left eye—or lack of it—into my tribute outfits. Meaning she designed a few different patches to act as accessories to the ridiculous costumes she forced me into.

But if they thought I was going to leave my older sister's bracelet in the Capitol so I could wear a stupid eye patch into the arena, they had another thing coming.

The eye patch I wore to the hovercraft that day came with me from District 9. It was a stupid bit of black cloth from when I was fifteen. When I gouged out my eye with a scythe on the first day of the harvest.

It means so little to me now. I don't usually get strange looks in District 9; _everyone_ knows the stupid kid who took his own eye out. The shining example to all first-time harvesters in the fields. But here, in the Capitol, I'm outstanding. In a negative way. I tried to avoid telling the story when I gave my interview. What good would it do me? Everyone would assume I couldn't handle a weapon. When Marchland asked, I lied, told him I'd lost my eye in a fight. And I'd smiled, too. But only because I could practically hear my friends laughing at home.

As my pedestal rose, it crossed my mind that maybe it was beneficial, giving up my eye patch, as they might avoid focusing their cameras on me. With my final days being broadcasted to the entire nation, I could really use the privacy.

Just because of that, I haven't bothered to cover my face.

* * *

Day twelve. Six tributes are left in the arena. At least half of them are Careers, and one is me. As for the rest of them, I have no clue who they are. A few days ago, when three tributes were killed at once, I missed the anthem. Due to unconsciousness, a result of being wholly exhausted. The next day, I caught sight of all three remaining Careers. Unfortunately, they were not only alive but still on their feet.

Not for long, though, if I have my way.

I hear a rustle in the bushes surrounding my campsite, and immediately tighten my grip on the scythe's wooden handle. Yes, I'm making use of the weapon that took my eye, in the hopes that I won't make the same mistake twice. My best friend once told me that I could only loose half my sight once time. I think it was meant to reassure me, but really, it just means I'll be blind if I screw up again.

It's the thought that counts.

I rise slowly, brandishing my scythe at what I hope is a threatening angle. They don't teach you about intimidation when you're supposed to be learning how to reap grain. I strain my ears, but the rustling has ceased. Whoever—or possibly _what_ever—it is, they know I'm aware of them.

Without warning, the tribute jumps at me from my blind side. By the time I figure out I'm being attacked, I've hit the ground already. I roll out of the way just as the blade of a hatchet buries itself in the dirt. Struggling to my feet, I flourish my scythe at the tribute.

"Augh!" The blade slices through his—the boy from 6's—shoulder, though not deep enough to cause much damage. The tribute swings his weapon clumsily at me. He obviously didn't work with axes much in District 6, while I've got the advantage of having trained with a scythe before. Not to fight people, of course, but can it really be that different?

_From harvesting grain?_ _Yes, it can. _says a voice at the back of my mind, one that I can't help but associate with the presence of a conscience. Which, of course, is impossible. I'm in the Hunger Games. The tributes with morals are long dead.

The next time my scythe hits, a wound opens just below his collarbone on the right side. With a yell of pain, he lets go of his hatchet mid-swing, sending it flying into my arm. The weapon's dull blade is an agony that challenges the day I lost my eye.

"Aah!" My anguish is lost in the other boy's cannon. I'm breathing hard, the pain making stars dance across my vision. When all is quiet, I squeeze my eye shut, one hand clasping the hatchet's handle.

_One... Two... Three._

I yank on the handle, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from hollering in pain. My breath catches in my throat. When I drop the hatchet, my hand goes to my arm immediately, in a disorganized attempt to stop the bleeding. I tear off a piece of my shirt, hold one end between my teeth, and wrap the other firmly around the wound, tight enough for the gut-wrenching pain to dull slightly.

The wound is in an awkward place for someone without a left eye; on the outside of my left arm, just below the shoulder. I can't see it. But the makeshift bandage must not be doing its job. Because my vision slowly begins to darken, until there's nothing left at all.

* * *

The first thing I am aware of is my scythe, which is lying on the ground in front of me. The body of the boy from 6 is gone. They must have picked it up while I was unconscious.

I drag myself into a sitting position, my head pounding. I still can't get a good look at my arm, but the blood isn't pouring out anymore, so I think I'm okay. It does feel a bit strange, but the pain is fading. At least I'm not left handed.

_Snap!_ Footsteps. I turn my head to find myself facing a young girl, just stepping out from the bushes. She freezes when she sees me, eyes growing wide with panic. I start to reach for my scythe, which lies only a few feet away from where I sit. But something in her terrified expression stops me.

For a while, we just wait there. The little girl standing, poised to run but absolutely motionless. And me on the ground, a debating whether or not to grab my weapon and end her life. I must have some form of a conscience, with the time it's taking to pull myself together. She just seems so…harmless. Though I'm sure, if she lasted until the final five in the Hunger Games, she can kill just as viciously as I can.

Or maybe she's just good at hiding.

She's probably afraid I'll come after her if she runs. Because rather than sprinting into the trees, she starts talking. Her voice is soft, a challenge to listen to with my throbbing headache.

"I…I can help you," she stammers.

"Yeah?" Though nearly unrecognizable with most of her hair tucked into a cap and her face smudged with dirt, I'm almost positive this is the girl from District 10.

"Your—Your arm…" she says. "You tied the bandages too tight…You could loose it…" My eyebrows shoot up, and then I'm tearing at the cloth bandages. I'm obviously no medical expert, but something tells me I'm already halfway there. The blood rushes back to my limb, and I gasp as the returning pain nearly blinds me.

"Are you—" The girl trails off as I come back to my senses. I try to rewrap my old bandage, and she speaks again.

"I have real bandages…" she says quickly, "In my backpack. Allies?" I look up at her curiously. Five tributes left, and she wants an ally. It's not going to happen. I nod, but only with the intention to take her life in a day or so.

The girl kneels down beside me, shrugging off her backpack and unzipping the top. She takes out a thick piece of gauze, holds it to my arm, and secures it in place with a roll of medical tape. When she's finished, she sits across the clearing. Too far for me to attack her before she runs, I note. Smart girl.

"I'm Piper," she says, looking down. Piper. Strange name, for someone who speaks so quietly.

"I'm Whit," I tell her. She nods, but she's still staring at the bloodstained ground. Avoiding eye contact, I notice. Maybe the Games have made me easily provoked, because for a reason I'm unsure of, this simple gesture drives me over the edge.

"For God's sake!" I exclaim, making my new ally jump. I cover the left side of my face with one hand. "There! Can you look me in the eye now?"

A long moment passes. I stare at Piper, waiting for a response. To my surprise, the corners of the timid girl's mouth turn up in a smile.

"It's not that."

"It's not? What is it, then?"

"You remind me of someone, that's all."

"Who's that?"

"My older brother."

"I've got an older sister. She's not much like you, though," I note.

"Why not?" asks Piper.

"Well, for one thing, she's not twelve."

"I'm thirteen."

"Close enough." It's around this time that I realize I'm having a real conversation with her. And my lackadaisical conscience starts to ache.

Sometimes I hate my life.

FATE: Whitaker did have a conscience. He didn't end up killing Piper. He kept her as an ally until the final four, when they split up. When three tributes were left, Whitaker witnessed the girl from Two killing his former ally. In a rage, Whitaker ran in immediately, beginning the finale of the Games. In the end, Whit was victorious.

**That one was fun to write :) I like Whit. Maybe I'll write something about him in my other fic, Rollercoaster.**


	27. The Curious (Trace)

**Message to "Me (Guest)" and anyone else wondering why I don't update this one frequently: I'm sorry, I have a huge school project coming up, and it's basically the final exams for all my core classes combined in one long speech. And I really need to work on it more…**

27th Hunger Games

Trace

District 10

"Well?" The boy from 9's face is grim. "Do you want it, or what?"

I stare down at the weapon in his hand. Horrible metal spikes jutting out from the blood-tarnished club at odd angles, like nails pounded in with a faulty hammer. It isn't hard to imagine this mace striking another tribute.

Unless I'm the one making the kill.

A week ago, the Cornucopia battle took place. The bloodbath. My stomach turned a graceless somersault when my pedestal clicked into place. When I saw the golden horn, the backpacks of supplies, and the weapons. The maces. Even the Careers were shocked with the brutal arrangement. Most other tributes started to panic. One girl stepped right off her pedestal, triggering the active mines buried under the dirt. As soon as the gong sounded, I ran for the trees.

No, I don't want it. But I need a weapon. And this year, there are no other options. I reach out and take the handle. It's heavy—no surprise—but I struggle to hold it up straight, thinking how I would be ridiculed in the Capitol if I couldn't lift my club. The boy from 9 gives me a nod and props his own mace—an even larger one with spikes that remind me of animal teeth—against a tree.

Like his weapon, the boy from 9 is big and frightening. I can't say much about his disposition, though. Sometime after the interviews, he lost his good-natured comedy and turned to stone. I can't make sense of it. Though I guess the arena can do that to you. His district partner—shy and distracted, just like before—is always fiddling with the handle of her weapon, waves of honey-colored hair falling in front of her eyes.

"I don't know your names," I blurt out, "We're supposed to be allies, but I don't know your names." The District 9 tributes stare at me. Reluctant to look away, I glare right back at them. The corner of the boy's mouth turns up for an instant. But his smile disappears so quickly I can't be sure it was there in the first place.

"Barric," he says finally, "I'm Barric, and that's Nira. Happy?" I should be, since I've got allies now. But somehow, that comment rubs me the wrong way.

"Trace," I tell him, "I'm happy. This arena, with all the maces. Don't it make you _happy_, too?"

That was a risky choice of words, especially with Barric's weapon within arm's reach. Such boldness may have earned me sponsors.

On the other hand, bashing my head in with a mace could earn Barric some sponsors of his own.

But again, there's that fleeting smile. What is it with him? I can't understand it. So easygoing and friendly in his interview, yet now he only allows himself to appear happy for a split second.

"Good point," he tells me, "C'mon. We're heading back."

"Back where?"

"To camp," says Nira, adjusting the straps of her backpack and heading off into the trees. Barric follows his district partner, and I bring up the rear.

The hike seems endless, so I ask a lot of questions on the way. I can tell I'm beginning to get on Barric's nerves, but I can't seem to keep my mouth shut. That's gotten me in trouble long before the Hunger Games. I ask about the number of tributes remaining—eleven—about the sponsor gifts my allies have received—two packets of dried fruit and a roll of bandage—and even about what District 9 is like—boundlessly dry and full of wide, golden grain fields. As it turns out, Barric's a good friend of last year's victor. Nira stiffens when the boy from 9 brings up their mentor. It isn't hard to guess why. Only one tribute can win; that mentor must be playing favorites this year.

With his friend in the arena, can you blame him?

In a few minutes I find that I can't hold back anymore. I have to open my big mouth and talk about the interviews.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Nothing did," says Barric without missing a beat.

"Must've been something. You've changed, I know it." The boy from 9 stops in his tracks.

"Listen, Ten. The only thing that's changed 's that I ain't here to entertain. Got it?"

"Trace," I mutter. Barric takes my disgruntled response as a yes, and continues walking. It seems to me he's taking care to march ahead of the group; his strides are double the length of Nira's or mine.

My pace starts to slow after a while, and I fall behind by a few yards. I let my arm drop. The burdensome mace drags along behind me, leaving thin channels in the dirt where the spikes dig into the ground.

"Lift that up," orders Barric. Somehow, even with the distance between us, he still manages to keep an eye on me. "We're not leaving tracks."

"Yessir," I say dryly. The boy from 9 shoots me a glare.

It seems to take forever, but we finally reach the camp.

"Gee, you walked far today, didn't you?" I say, "What was that about?"

"We didn't walk," Nira tells me, "We were chased."

"Oh. Who chased you?"

"Boy from Seven. He's gone now." Barric points to my mace. The dried blood is even more sinister now that I know where it came from. In my head, the cannon I heard this morning resounds. I set the mace down, digging those loathsome spikes into the dirt so it will stand upright.

"Only eleven tributes left," says Nira. Her expression is almost thoughtful. Not the way you should look when acknowledging that thirteen people have died.

"Eleven," echoes Barric. And the fleeting smile returns.

But only for an instant.

FATE: Neither Trace, Nira, or Barric made it out of the arena that year. Nira was killed off first, by a muttation. A few days later, Careers found Barric and Trace's camp. Trace was killed by one of the volunteers' spiked maces, the weapon she had hated so much. Barric made it to the final three tributes before he was killed by the future victor of the 27th Hunger Games. Barric's best friend and last year's victor, Whitaker Kovach, never forgave himself for the death of his friend.

**Because of the schoolwork I need to get done, I'll be vanishing completely from Fanfiction for about a week. But after that, my classes will be over and I will have time to write again. So sorry! :'( See you in a week or so!**


	28. The Savior (Eric)

**Sorry for being gone for so long! Family vacation. But now I'm back! And hopefully I'll be able to update a little more regularly. Hopefully :) Thank you for bearing with me! –Kate**

The 28th Hunger Games

Eric

District 11

She's gotten worse, if possible, since I started out on my hunting trip this morning. Her cheeks are pallid, her breathing shallow and ragged. One arm hangs out of the branch as she sleeps. Cay would be horrified if she knew she was giving herself away. I set down my spear and lift her arm so it rests on her stomach.

Unfortunately, she's a light sleeper.

"Eric?" She sounds nearly as bad as she looks, but I wouldn't tell her that. She's pretty easily wounded—you know, figuratively. And then there's fact that she's a trained Career and yes, I'm somewhat afraid of her. Or at least, I was, before she was reduced to this. She asked me to be her ally in training, and I knew better than to refuse her offer. As I mentioned before, Careers are easily wounded. They don't forget about it, either.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"How long was I asleep…" It doesn't sound like a question, they way she trails off. She's obviously fighting tooth and nail to stay awake, to stay in control of her own body.

"Not long," I lie. Ailing or not, Cay sees right through me.

"_Right_."

"I tried." That gets a smile out of her, which is what I was aiming for.

I think, in the weeks we've been trapped in the arena, I've come to appreciate my Career ally. I'll admit I'm grateful for the company. And while she could still stand up by herself, she was twice the hunter I'll ever be. But since the muttation attack, the poison seeping through her veins has done more damage than any manmade weapon could. Though, when you think about it, muttations _are_ manmade. The Capitol's own sword to use in their Games.

"Go back to sleep. You need the rest." Cay hesitates. She wants to hang on. She knows this isn't good for sponsors; especially with her being a volunteer. But in the end, she gives in. Even simple conversations are exhausting when you're slowly being poisoned.

As soon as her eyes close, I know this has to stop. It's been three days already, with no deaths. The Capitol audience is getting bored. The Gamemakers will set something on us soon if the Games continue as they are. Considering that, I can't sit here and wait for Cay to die. I have to do something.

Either prevent her death, or ensure it.

* * *

It's impossible for me to make the choice. Half an hour later—according to my shiny new sponsor-gift watch—I'm still sitting against that miserable tree, keeping watch. I've sacrificed a portion of our dried fruit to satisfy my growling stomach, and I've leaned my spear against a tree. Things have been rather quiet; I don't have much need for my weapon now.

I hear a rustle in the bushes and reach instinctively for my spear. In the moment it takes for me to get on my feet, the arena silences itself again. Cay is still camouflaged in the lower branches of the tree, but out here, I'm a sitting duck. However, that does mean any tribute with decent aim would have shot at me by now.

I decide to take a look around. And instead of discovering another person in the bushes, I find something much more welcome: a sponsor gift. I must not have noticed it drifting down from the sky. I bend down and pick up the container, a large metal orb of two halves. When I unscrew the top half, I find a transparent, sealed container with steaming liquid inside, along with some green-tinted bread and a metal spoon that's too hot to touch. There's also a brief note, taped to the side of the orb.

_Give this to her. –R_

I don't know who R is, but I'd assume he/she is mentoring Cay. The mentors haven't sent us sponsor gifts with much specificity as to whose they are. We normally end up splitting the food, anyway. But I guess Cay's mentor is insistent about who this gift belongs to.

Cay wakes up immediately, and I present the gift to her. Her shaking hands end up spilling about half of the broth. This is when I offer to feed it to her. She glares at me in a look of blatant refusal, and tries again. While she does this, despite R's wishes, I start to nibble on a piece of the green bread. An odd color, but a nice taste.

About fifteen minutes later, Cay goes back to sleep, and I decide to save the rest of the rolls. I'm sure R would approve.

* * *

Something miraculous has happened. Cay's recovery. I suppose the specific sponsor-gift broth is what she has to thank. And me, of course, for giving it to her. Though I don't point this out, as she's back on her feet, and fully capable of using her weapons. Now, I have to watch what I say again.

Filtering the remarks I make is a challenge; I'm used to saying what's on my mind. I've become more comfortable around my Career ally than I ought to be. Sometimes, I just can't help myself.

"Cay," I say. She turns to face me, hands fiddling with her hunting knife. "Can you tell me something?."

"What is it?" she asks. For an instant, her eyes flick to something behind me. Her attention is still occupied by our hunting trip.

"Why did you ask me? Why didn't you join the other Careers?" My question captures her focus. Her knife goes back into its sheath, and her eyes are on me.

"Well, they never would have done something like that for me," she decides, I guess referencing the past few days she spent sleeping in that tree while I kept guard. "I mean, they don't care. Whether I live or die? But you, from the outer districts, you're different." So she asked me because I was a more reliable ally? I don't know if I would have taken that path. Admittedly, the outer districts sometimes hold grudges.

"Would you have done the same for me?" It's a stupid question, but it slips out nevertheless. Of course she wouldn't have. She's a hunter, and the only reason I haven't starved to death already. I can't ask for anything more in an ally. It's an unspoken deal. I'll care about what happens to Cay, and in return she'll catch us food.

"Yes," says Cay, "I'm sure I would've."

"Really?" I'm genuinely surprised. Cay whacks me on the shoulder lightly.

"Have a little faith! I'm your ally, after all!" I crack a smile, because maybe there's nothing to fear.

FATE: Eric and Cay were attacked by the remaining Careers. Cay, at sixteen years old the youngest Career that year, was killed. Eric escaped, and went on to become the victor of the 28th Hunger Games.

**I'm very excited about writing the next one, because it's one I've planned for a while!**

**Next chapter: Percival, the boy from Four, goes from one large alliance to another.**


	29. The HG Fan (Kate) -Author's Note-

**Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and support for this story! I can't believe it's been nearly a year since I started it! Unfortunately, I will not be around to update for four weeks :( I'm going to be at summer camp, and I can't use my computer there.**

**I'll try to write the next chapter in a notebook, or during the car ride there, so I can get it posted as soon as I get back! Thank you for bearing with me and my horrible late updates!**

**~Kate**


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